


Right Here Next to You (Stay With Me Please)

by Le_Tournesol



Series: Sunflower’s H/C Fics [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cuddling and Snuggling, Fainting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Keith has anxiety, Keith is a Mess, Lance is a good boyfriend, Lance is considerate, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective!Lance, Quintessence Sensitive Keith, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Team as Family, Whump, and freaked out at first, and tries to help, but then he's more than okay with it, eventual Klance, hurt!lance, keith is confused, orphan!Keith, poisoned!Keith, sick!keith, worried!Shiro, worried!lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Tournesol/pseuds/Le_Tournesol
Summary: Five times Lance comes across Keith having a nightmare, and one time Keith comes to him willingly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh. my. gosh. this is my first 5+1. i'm so happy! i've got a general outline already, so it shouldn't take me too long to finish it. rated for words that start with "f" and end in "k" ... like "fire truck." but yeah rated for language.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance tries to watch a movie.

Lance wants to watch a movie.

He doesn’t want to watch a movie alone, but it looks like he’s out of options.

Hunk and Pidge are working on some odd project that involves more math than Lance wants to even consider, and Shiro, Coran, and Allura are away on a diplomatic meeting.

Keith is his last resort.

With a quiet sigh and a casual wave to Team Punk, Lance sets off on the quickest route to the training deck.

He may not be in the mood for calculus or physics, but he knows the basics of probability:

_Where is Keith?_

_Training._

Except the training deck is empty.

Lance surveys the vacant expanse and blinks like his eyes are playing tricks on him.

No Keith.

Resigned to solitude, Lance shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and skulks down the hallway toward the shared entertainment space.

When he reaches the room, he strides with purpose straight to the Altean equivalent of a television and presses the button to turn it on.

The remote sits next to it, so he scoops it up and heads for the couch.

Lance almost doesn’t see Keith.

When he does notice him, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open _._

Because Keith Kogane is asleep.

Slouching bonelessly onto the armrest of the couch, Keith looks a bit like he melted into this position.

The collar of his ridiculous cropped red jacket is trapped under his cheek, so the fabric pulls away from his torso and catches on his t-shirt to reveal a strip of pale skin.

Both of his legs curl loosely to the side. 

One arm is smashed between Keith and the couch, and the other is tucked into his jacket. 

Lance tilts his head to the side.

He doubts Keith intended to nap here.

Because Keith doesn’t look comfortable at all. In fact, he shivers intermittently as if he’s cold.

But what really leads Lance to his conclusion is the fact _he’s never seen Keith sleep._

Keith stays up late, gets up early, and sleeps exclusively in his bedroom.

Lance hasn’t ever seen him nod off in any kind of public space, and Keith flat-out refuses to participate in paladin sleepovers.

It used to piss Lance off. No matter what he did, he couldn’t convince the red paladin to join them all for living room slumber parties. He’d asked Keith if he felt too cool for them, or if he just thought they weren’t worth his time. It had actually gotten pretty ugly once. Shiro intervened after that particular argument; he pulled Lance aside and told him not to press Keith anymore on the issue. Lance only agreed because he trusted Shiro, especially where Keith was concerned.

Now Lance can’t help but stare.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Lance crosses the room to find the row of chests that contain blankets, pillows, and some kind of strange shoes that Allura and Coran love... but the rest of them avoid due to an incident wherein Pidge nearly lost a toe.

Lance plucks up the fuzziest throw he can find, and then he walks back to the couch and gently tosses it over Keith, who sleeps on undisturbed.

Sleeping and covered by a fluffy yellow blanket, Keith transforms before Lance’s eyes.

Keith, restless, aggressive, intense, softens under his gaze.

There’s something almost vulnerable about him that makes Lance’s insides twist, and a protective feeling blossoms in his chest.

He swallows.

And then he pointedly turns his eyes away and randomly selects a movie.

He puts the volume on low and dims the lights before settling on the floor with his back pressed against the couch in front of Keith’s bent knees.

It’s sort of like he’s not watching a movie alone, he decides. Hunk usually falls asleep before they're over anyway. 

Lance stretches his legs out in front of him and grabs a free cushion from one of the unoccupied chairs starts watching the 10,000 year-old Altean film. It looks like some kind of horror flick that bears an odd, disconcerting resemblance to _The Blob._

He hugs the pillow to his chest and drops his chin on top of it. Nostalgia pulls his lips into a delighted grin.

It's great, and everything is sort of strange and peaceful for about ten minutes.

And then something starts to shift.

Lance is caught up in the cheesy dialogue when a soft whine interrupts his trance.

Lance furrows his brow, cranes his neck to check on the red paladin, and notes that he’s still unconscious.

His eyes search the room, but he and Keith are still the only occupants.

So where did the sound come from?

Chewing absently on his bottom lip, Lance figures he probably just imagined it. 

Or the mice also might've been running through the vents.

Because there was no way that Keith actually _whimpered_. 

He tries to put it out of his mind. 

 _Still_... Lance thinks, _something feels off._

And he trusts his senses.

To be fair, they’d saved his life more than once.

He scrutinizes the smaller teen.

In spite of the thick, toasty blanket, Keith somehow shivers harder. Lance frowns and then removes his jacket and lays it over Keith, whose tremors relent.

Satisfied, Lance turns back to the movie just in time to see the protagonist duck to hide in the woods. The tranquility of the forest is ruined by the sound of the leaves that crunch under her feet as she sprints for better cover. She flattens her back against a tree and tries to catch her breath, and then she peeks around the trunk to look for the creature.

Clearly, this girl hadn't taken Horror Movies 101.

The monster lunges, the girl screams, and Lance yelps. 

But it's not the movie that alarms him. 

It’s the cry that comes from behind him.

Heart thundering like a herd of wild horses, Lance whirls around to rip Keith a new one.

“What's your problem?" he gripes. His next words catch somewhere in his throat. 

Because Keith isn’t even awake.

And he looks miserable.

Keith is always pale, but right now he’s ashen and colorless. His lips press into a thin, white line, and his brow is drawn. His entire body is as taut as a tightrope wire, and the tendons in his neck strain against his skin. A choked off sound tears itself from his throat.

And even though sweat beads at his temple, he’s still shivering and twitching.

A layer of frost spreads from his gut to his extremities. 

Because Keith isn’t cold.

_He’s scared._

An actor on screen howls in fear, but it’s nothing to the little noises Keith keeps making in his sleep.

Lance blanches and his mouth goes slack _because he’s never seen Keith look this way._

What could someone like Keith, _who could drive a hoverbike off a cliff with a smug, excited expression_ , have nightmares about?

Shoving his curiosity and surprise to the side, Lance reaches out a concerned, tentative hand.

“Keith?” he hopes his tone is gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a dream.”

When the pads of his fingers with the other teen’s shoulder, Keith gasps and jerks like he’s been struck by lightning.

Haphazardly, he launches himself off the couch and drops into a defensive stance.

His violet eyes are too bright and fierce and unseeing.

“Hey,” Lance placates. He gets to his feet, but he doesn't come any closer. Keith’s chest heaves with the force of his breath. “It’s just me. It’s Lance. You fell asleep. You’re fine.”

Keith blinks. His vision clears.

An intense flush creeps up his neck.

In combination with his current pallor, it makes him look sick.

Then a vein in his jaw spasms. He grits his teeth. His chin comes up defiantly. His eyes narrow.

He steps backward.

Keith's entire demeanor changes before Lance's eyes. 

“You okay?” Lance takes a hesitant step forward. Keith mirrors the motion while he studies Lance’s expression. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

This is apparently the wrong thing to say.

 

Keith clenches his fists with enough force to puncture the delicate skin with his nails.

Lance watches the blood well in his palms, “...Um...Keith?”

Keith’s glare is cold and flinty, “Fuck off, Lance.”

Lance sputters in surprise and indignation.

Sure, they fight and bicker and argue and compete, but it's almost playful as of late. 

And even at their worst, they'd never... 

Keith just crossed a line.

The red paladin starts to leave, but Lance automatically catches him by the wrist and seethes, "What is your problem?" 

It's the touch that sets Keith off.

The smaller of the pair flinches so violently that Lance drops his arm in shock. In a hair’s breadth of a second, Lance sees raw panic in Keith’s eyes before it’s replaced by something he can’t identify.

And then Keith closes off entirely.  

“Get the fuck away from me,” Keith spits. He turns on his heel and stalks through the threshold.

Just before the doors shudder to a close, Lance watches as Keith's sedate pace becomes an outright sprint. 

Lance exhales.

He doesn’t even know how to begin to process the last two minutes.

There was _so much_ , and then there was _nothing_. 

How could one person jump from fear to embarrassment to anger to terror to _nothing_ in such a short span of time?

Lance bites his lip. All the warmth has been sucked from his body. He feels like he's been set adrift, like he's floating untethered in a stormy sea. 

Shaking out his hand, he runs his tongue over his teeth and whispers, "What the fuck?" 

He stands in the same position just a little too long before he makes himself return to the movie. He rolls his shoulders, determined to forget about... _whatever_ just happened.

He should be livid.

He should be irate, waspish, and wrathful. 

_But that’s not how he feels at all._

He doesn’t want to think about it.

Ignoring the unoccupied couch with the innocuous, sunny blanket, Lance goes back to the carpeted floor.

When the movie ends and the screen goes dark, Lance doesn’t get up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance cradles Keith in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this is a little rushed. I've been super, super busy, but I don't want to entirely neglect my multi-chapter stuff. I hope it's still an enjoyable read. 
> 
> Please forgive medical and scientific inaccuracies. Author's degree is in English... not science or medicine. Tried to do some research, but... Yeah. Sorry, all. 
> 
> P.S. Had to use the HTML editor for this chapter. Not sure how successful I was.

“Keith!” Lance calls into the vacant expanse. He shivers, but he isn’t sure if it’s due to fear or the chill in the air. The mauve colored mist glitters before him and blends with the monochromatic landscape. Everything is plum and wine and orchid purple. It’s ominous, and he can feel the worry creeping up his chest and into his throat. 

He swallows. 

The surface of the planet is marshy, and his feet sink with an audible squelch when he takes another step forward. 

He cups his hands around his mouth in an attempt to increase his range, “Keith!”

Lance knows the red paladin is somewhere in the vicinity. 

They’d been joking over he comms on their way back from a successful reconnaissance mission, and Lance had been thinking about how grateful he was that things were starting to feel normal between them. 

Sure, Keith calmed down over the whole _Get the Fuck Away From Me_ incident within a day or two, and Lance never brought it up, but their dynamic was still off more than three weeks later. First, Keith avoided him, and then everything had been so stilted, and Lance hated it. 

At some point their fictitious rivalry and Lance’s ire had dissolved into something fond. 

Lance didn’t realize how much he counted on their easy banter. 

He didn’t realize how much he counted on Keith. 

But he knew now.

Because he missed Keith. 

_Keith!_

Impulsive, hotheaded, angry, smug, funny, brilliant, brave, caring Keith. 

They’d been assigned to work together. It had been a very, very long day, but it was worth it. 

Because at some point between sneaking around seemingly abandoned bases and dodging bad guys, they found their rhythm again. 

They wrapped up with the Galra none-the-wiser, and then they started back for the Castle.

Keith was laughing, and Lance thought the sound was like water in the desert. He wanted more of it.

He launched into a joke his brother Marco taught him, paused, and then finished in a grandiose fashion, “Because it was two-tired!”

Expectantly, he waited for Keith’s reaction.

And waited...

And then Keith groaned. 

“C’mon, Mullet. It wasn’t that bad,” Lance said. 

The silence stretched. 

“Keith?” Lance finally asked.

The red paladin coughed, “I don’t...”

His words were interrupted by a round of violent gagging. 

Now alert and concerned, Lance bolted upright, “Keith? Keith! Are you okay?” 

And then Keith swerved and skimmed too close to the planet, and Red couldn’t compensate. 

Lance didn’t know if it was the gravitational pull or an electromagnetic pulse, but Red went limp. They’d hurdled to the surface at an alarming speed. 

“No!” Lance shouted. He urged Blue after them, and soon they too were caught in the strange current. 

The fog thickened like a blanket. Lance lost sight of Red. Blue crashed onto the surface in a heap. 

And the comms wouldn’t work.

 

So Lance traipses on foot across the murky grounds in search of his missing and possibly ill teammate.

Fucking freaky alien planets and their freaky effects on everything.

Lance isn’t sure how long he plods through the soft, damp earth of the planet in search of Keith. He only knows that he’s getting progressively colder, and a vague, unsettling feeling settles in his gut. His skin prickles in some sort of strange anticipation. 

He feels like his senses are all on high alert.

He exhales in an attempt to calm himself as he emerges from the line of tree into a wide raisin-colored meadow. 

The haze is still heavy in the air, but the clearing of the vegetation improves visibility.

He spots the deep scars in the field from a poor landing, and then he sees Red at the end of the wound.

Lance is running before he can finish processing what he’s seeing.

“Keith!” he screams. He swears as the resistant ground tries to slows his frantic pace. His feet stick and slide in the mush, and he slips twice in his haste.

He skids to a halt in front of Red, and his eyes dart around her figure in a desperate search for her paladin. 

When his gaze lands on Keith, he sprints to cover the distance between them.

Curled into a small, shivering ball, Keith is slumped against Red’s paw. 

Lance lands on his knees next to the smaller teen. Keith's breathing is labored, and his entire form trembles. There’s vomit on his armor. 

Surveying him for injuries, Lance gently rolls Keith onto his back and moves so that his head rests on his lap. 

He brushes his thumbs over Keith’s sharp cheekbones, “Keith. You with me, man? Are you sick?” 

Keith’s eyes flutter and he groans, “L-Lance?”

“The one and only,” Lance’s grin is thin. “When did you start feeling bad? Why didn’t you tell me your sick?” 

Keith coughs, “It just...just happened.” He frowns, “I threw up in Red.”

Lance almost laughs, “I think she’ll forgive you.”

Pressing one hand to Keith’s forehead and the other to his own, he compares. Keith is feverish. 

The corners of Lance’s eyes crinkle in concern. 

“What’s bothering you?” 

He smoothes Keith’s hair back from his face. He’s not sure if it’s damp from sweat or the drizzle, but the climate cannot be helping.

“Stomach,” Keith answers. “Head. Tired. Hurts. Dizzy. Cold.” He exhales, “Don’t feel good.” 

His breath catches on a wheeze. 

Lance fusses over him, and he just worries more when Keith doesn’t shove him away with both hands. 

“What can I do? What do you need?”

“Don’t know,” Keith whimpers, and Lance’s heart crumbles to infinitesimal bits in his chest. 

“Okay,” Lance chews on the inside of his cheek while he thinks. “How about we go back in your Lion? It’s got to be warmer.” 

Keith shuffles in discomfort on Lance’s lap, “Smells like puke.” 

“We’ll open a window,” Lance jokes weakly. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” 

Keith starts to protest, but then he quiets, “Okay.” 

Fuck. Lance’s apprehension swells. Carefully, he shifts Keith, who cringes as though he’s in pain. Lance gets one arm under his knees and wraps the other behind his shoulders, and then he hoists him up. 

Keith’s teeth chatter, and he cuddles closer to Lance’s chest. 

In spite of the situation, Lance flushes. 

He cradles Keith like he’s made of delicate glass, and he nearly crumples under the weight of this fragile trust. 

Because Keith hates to be weak.

Because Keith is terrified of being vulnerable.

And he’s letting Lance see him this way, and he’s putting himself in Lance’s care. 

He’s depending on Lance. 

Lance holds the smaller teen tightly, and he grits his teeth. He doesn’t know who or what made Keith so afraid, afraid of letting his guard down or opening up or, fuck, sleeping where anyone can see him, but the thoughts make Lance’s blood boil. 

When they get into the cockpit, Lance settles Keith into the pilot’s chair. He pokes around for Red’s emergency supplies and finds a thick sleeping bag. He returns to Keith’s side and helps strip away the bulk of his armor, leaving him in his undersuit. He unzips the bag and wraps Keith up in it. Then he makes quick work of Keith’s odorous sick and strips off his own chest plate. 

He turns on Red’s emergency beacon. 

When he brings his attention back to Keith, he winces in sympathy when he notes that the other boy still looks miserable. 

He squints like the light is too bright, and his muscles twitch and spasm. 

Lance perches lightly on the arm of the pilot’s chair and cards his fingers through Keith’s hair. 

“The others will be here soon, okay?” Lance reassures him. “I put on Blue’s emergency signal as soon as you dropped, so even if there’s some kind of interference, they’ll have a good idea of where we are.”

Keith’s eyes droop, but he fights to stay awake. 

Hopeful that he’ll be able to relax Keith enough to sleep, Lance continues to speak in low tones, “And you know how it is with all the geniuses on the Castle. They’ll probably be able to pinpoint exactly where we are... They won’t wander around blind on foot like I did.”

Lance thinks Keith may have nodded off, but then the smaller teen jerks himself back into alertness. 

Lance bites his lip. He wanted to be subtle. Even though he doesn’t know exactly why, he definitely knows that Keith doesn’t like to sleep in front of others. 

He can remember in vivid detail what happened in the living room. Keith’s expletives still play on repeat like some sort of busted jukebox in his head some nights. 

But he’s out of luck. 

“Keith, c’mon man, you gotta rest,” Lance implores. “You’ll feel better.”

Keith is too worn out to glare, but Lance can still feel him tense up beside of him. 

His hand stills for a moment.

He hesitates.

Then Lance returns to threading his fingers through the strands of Keith’s soft hair. 

“I know you have a... Thing,” Lance treads with caution. “But you’re... Keith, you’re really sick. And if you don’t rest, you’ll get worse. And I... I don’t know when everyone will find us.” Lance ignores the way his voice cracks. “I promise... I’ll do whatever you need me to do, okay? I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t tell anyone.” Lance sighs, “I don’t want to leave you by yourself. I can’t... can’t leave you here alone. You can hate me and never talk to me again, okay? You can cuss me out again too if that makes you feel better.”

He almost wishes Keith would tell him to fuck off. At least then he'd know Keith is okay. 

Lance takes a deep breath, “Just. Please, Keith.” He closes his eyes, “I... You can trust me.” 

Some of the tension drains from Keith’s body, and he studies Lance with a glazed expression.

Lance holds his gaze. He tries to radiate sincerity and transparency.

Something in his countenance must satisfy Keith because he softens like he may relent. 

So Lance presses him just a little more.

In a light tone, he adds, “I mean, I think we just had a bonding moment?” He nudges Keith gently, “I cradled you in my arms.”

Keith huffs what might have been a laugh but still looks serious and uncomfortable.

But the sickness he’s trying to fight is winning, and his violet eyes are glassy with pain and exhaustion. 

Finally, they slip closed, and they stay that way. 

Lance tucks the blanket more snugly around him and resigns himself to keeping watch while watching Keith’s chest rise and fall in slumber.

He doesn’t like that Blue is out there all alone, but he hopes that the planet’s defenses are too strong for the Galra as well.

Lance tries to make himself comfortable in spite of his unbalanced position, and he stares absently at the horizon. 

Right when he decides to get up and walk around the cockpit to stretch his legs, a weight settles against his abdomen. 

Keith is using his stomach as a pillow. 

Lance blinks and imagines that the tips of his ears are roughly the color of Keith’s lion. 

A strange, choked sound works its way out of his mouth, and he’s so embarrassed that his face suddenly gets impossibly warmer

 _Okay, chill,_ Lance tells himself, _It’s just... Keith, napping on you. Cause he’s sick. And if you’re lucky he won’t remember any of this. Because if he does, he will probably shatter your knee caps._

Lance calms. He absently rests one hand on Keith’s shoulder. He splays his fingers protectively. 

 

An indiscriminate amount of time passes in this fashion. Lance’s internal clock tells him that Keith’s been asleep for about a varga when something shifts.

Well, when someone shifts.

Keith, who apparently tended to snuggle in his sleep, had incrementally inched his way into Lance’s space. He’d shuffled around enough that his nose pressed against Lance’s belly, and he’d drawn his knees up against his own chest. 

Lance didn’t think it looked comfortable, but Keith seemed content.

Well, he had seemed content. 

Until about a dobash ago when he’d started to snuffle and whimper. 

At first Lance assumed it was the sickness causing Keith’s distress, but then he thought of that day on the couch... and wondered if this was a recurring thing for Keith. If... maybe... maybe nightmares were Keith’s Thing?

Lance feels baffled again. 

Everyone has nightmares. Why is Keith so secretive about his own bad dreams? 

Keith makes a frightened noise and mutters the word _no_ twice. It’s muffled by the fabric of Lance’s suit. 

Lance’s eyes widen and his hands flutter uselessly around Keith’s uneasy frame.

This... did not go over well last time. 

Keith twitches and a broken cry escapes him, “M’sorry... s-ry... no.”

Lance’s throat constricts. 

He could wake him up, but Keith isn’t in any condition to fly off the handle right now.

The sickness came on fast and hard, and it didn’t sit right with Lance. 

There's something very wrong, and he knows it. 

So he hums because he can’t think of anything else to do. 

It’s barely audible over Keith’s breathing, but Lance hums the lullaby his mother sang to him when he was scared or sick or worried. It’s the same one he used when he watched the babies in the family. 

At some point he transitions from humming to singing in a voice that’s barely there. 

The hand on Keith’s shoulder runs over his back in a repetitive, circular motion.

Lance’s own eyes get heavy as the familiar lyrics wash over him, enveloping him like his mother’s embrace. He can almost see her now. Frying _tostones_ after he had a crappy day at school, the scent wafting through the entire house as she listens patiently to his account while flipping plantains with a careful hand at the stove. 

Lance is so caught up in the memory, he doesn’t immediately realize that his actions work. Keith uncoils, his muscles loosen, and his breathing returns to something more regular. 

Keith is a little restless, but he appears mostly content as he snoozes against Lance’s side. 

When the comms spring to life and buzz with voices, Lance cups a hand over the ear that isn’t pressed against Lance’s stomach to block out the noise. 

Lance picks up his discarded helmet.

“Lance? Keith?”

“Allura!” he whispers in relief. Immediately, he tells her, “Keith is really sick. Can you get us out of here?” 

“Hunk and Shiro are on their way,” Allura answers. “They’re going to tow Red and Blue back to the ship.” 

Lance chews this over and asks, “Will Black and Yellow be okay? This planet is... weird.”

Allura wavers, “Yes, yes, Pidge managed to recreate a shield from Altean records. It won’t hold long though. Yxca is a most inhospitable, uninhabitable planet.” She stops speaking and gathers her thoughts, “Lance, can you tell me Keith’s symptoms?”

“Uh,” Lance articulates, “He just... He got really sick really fast? Nausea, pain, headache, chills, fever, weakness... I’m... I’m worried, Allura. Will he be okay?”

Allura doesn’t answer right away, and Lance’s fingers tense. He doesn't like the words that exist in her silence. 

Finally, in a controlled tone, Allura says, “Yxca’s environmental conditions pose a danger to nearly all species. It’s difficult to study for this very reason. Long term exposure to the mist tends to incite madness. For someone your size and species, it would take around seven quintents.” 

Lance frets. They’d only been on the planet for a few vargas, and Keith had gotten sick as soon as they got close. Allura said it should take at least seven quintents to take effect. 

It doesn’t add up.

“However, the mist isn’t the planet’s only defense. It’s toxic to a number of species,” Allura explains.

Lance’s stomach drops. 

“Including Galra,” the princess finishes.

Lance stops breathing. Horrified, he stares at the ashen paladin. 

“I... I don’t... What do I? What can I do?” Lance gasps. “Allura. What can I do?”

Lance feels like it takes her vargas to respond, “Just... keep him comfortable. Don’t let him get stressed.” Lance nods at her words, even if she can’t see the gesture. “The toxin often proves fatal to Galra within 20 vargas of initial contact. Keith’s human biology may work in his favor,” she proposes. “But it might work against him.” 

A slurry of colorful Spanish swears dribble from Lance’s lips. 

“Shiro and Hunk will be there any minute. Coran has prepared the antidote. It must be administered within six vargas of first exposure. The sooner it’s given, the better.” 

Lance does some math in his head. They’ve probably been on Yxca for about four vargas, which gives them two vargas to get back to the Castle. Ideally, it won’t take more than a half a varga. 

The comm crackles with static, “Lance? Keith?”

This time it’s Hunk. Red lurches, and Lance watches the landscape tilt through through the glass.

Keith whines at the movement. 

“Signal... is worse... when both... on... planet,” Hunk explicates. The white noise clears marginally, “Sorry. It’s a nightmare to find a good frequency here. It changes all the time.” Lance hears something click as Hunk adjusts a dial, and Hunk continues, “You guys probably need to strap in. It’s going to get a little rough with this mist and the atmospheric conditions.” 

“Okay,” Lance answers. _Sorry, Keith,_ he thinks to himself as he extricates himself from Keith’s tangled limbs. Keith makes a sound of displeasure and blinks when Lance scoops him up with his blanket. 

“Shh, it’s fine, go back to sleep,” Lance prattles as he maneuvers them both into the chair. He sits Keith across his lap and encircles both of them with the blanket. “The other’s are here. We’ll be back in no time. And Coran’s gonna make you feel better.” 

Lance reaches for the seatbelt and twists it around speculatively in an attempt to find the best way to secure them both. When the task is complete, he locks his arms around Keith to keep him in place. They’re both strapped in, but Lance isn’t taking any risks.

“Okay, Hunk, we’re ready.”

Keith’s head comes to rest on Lance’s collar. His skin is impossibly hotter, and Lance wishes there was more he could for him. Keith’s eyes are wet and shiny. Lance rubs one hand up and down the length of Keith’s arms. 

He’s worried. He’s so, so worried. Keith’s condition deteriorates so rapidly, and he doesn’t want to think about what happens at the six varga mark if Keith was perfectly fine four vargas ago. 

Red lurches again, and Lance uses his free hand to press Keith’s face securely into his own shoulder. 

Takeoff is rocky. Red rocks and shudders as Yellow fights to break Yxca’s atmosphere. 

They’re nearly free of the planet’s gravitational pull when Keith loses the battle with his stomach. He’s green, and he fights like he wants to move away, but he’s too weak. His expression morphs to one of panic and embarrassment. 

“It’s fine,” Lance tells him. "It's okay." 

Keith coughs, then he gags and gasps. 

He jerks in Lance’s grip and vomits. Most of it makes it ends up on the floor, but some splashes onto their blanket. 

Keith cringes. He looks like he might cry. Instead, he collapses against Lance’s chest and mumbles something.

“Keith?” Lance nudges him. 

The red paladin coughs and murmurs, “M’sorry.” His fingers come up to grip Lance’s armor, and he pleads in the softest, most broken voice Lance has ever hear, “M’sorry. Dn’t go. Please.”

Lance tries to reconcile this moment with the image of the same boy telling him to fuck off.

He isn’t sure if Keith is just this sick, which is entirely possible, or if Keith doesn’t know what he wants either. 

“Shh, shhh,” Lance lilts. “Everything is fine. I won’t leave.” 

Lance punctuates this with a reassuring squeeze.

The comms surge to life once more, and Hunk says, “We’re about ten dobashes from the Castle.” He pauses, “How’s he doing?”

Keith shivers and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Not good,” Lance answers. He wishes he had something to keep Keith’s sweaty bangs out of his face. His face is flushed with warmth. 

The remainder of the ride is strained, but they make it. 

The tick that Hunk confirms that they’re safe to get up, Lance springs to his feet with Keith cushioned his arms. 

They’re down the ramp in record time, and Lance doesn’t wait for Hunk. He sprints out of the hangar to the infirmary. With Keith's weight slowing him, Shiro is able to catch up to the pair. He darts ahead to grab the door. 

Lance places Keith on the bed, and Coran surges forward with a syringe. Lance flips Keith’s arm to reveal the crook of his elbow. Shiro grabs his brother’s hand. Keith gazes at him feebly, like he's not sure if he's hallucinating, "K'shi?"

“Hey, you’ll be okay in just a minute,” Shiro promises.

Coran sterilizes Keith’s skin, and talks while he finishes his preparations, “His human biology must be accelerating the process.” 

He grasps Keith by the wrist and inserts the needle into his skin. He presses the plunger and the vivid orange liquid is pushed into Keith’s veins. 

Lance’s disappointed when the smaller paladin doesn’t immediately brighten and improve. 

Coran grabs a scanner and sighs in relief, “We cut it very close. I thought it might be too late.”

Lance feels like someone dumped ice water over his head, and Shiro looks as awful as Lance feels. 

“You gave us quite the scare, Number Four,” Coran tells Keith. Keith just blinks tiredly. Coran directs his next words to Shiro and Lance, “He needs to rest for the next 40 vargas. He’s to stay in bed and sleep as much as possible. Someone will need to stay with him at all times to monitor him. In 20 vargas, he’ll get the second dose. It’ll still be a rough recovery for him. The next few quintents won’t be pleasant. He’ll be generally ill and weak, but he’ll make a full recovery. Just keep him comfortable.”

Coran recommends they take Keith back to his room, and he advises only one visitor at a time. No more than two at most.

Shiro helps his brother sit up, and Lance and he both take a side and help Keith walk to his room, though Lance wouldn’t describe this process as walking. Keith is mostly deadweight, and his head lolls onto his shoulder. They’re more or less dragging him down the hallway, and Lance thinks that his feet only touch the ground occasionally.

In fact, Lance is pretty sure he’s asleep. 

Shiro takes Keith’s full weight as Lance turns down the bed and then fishes out more appropriate clothing. 

He turns away while Shiro helps Keith change out of his armor, and when he turns around the red paladin is tucked neatly into his bed.

Shiro goes into the attached bathroom and emerges with a damp cloth and a hairband. 

Lance snags the band and pulls Keith’s hair into a messy bun while Shiro tries to freshen him up.

No one likes to lay in his own filth.

“I’ll stay with him,” Shiro says when they’ve gotten Keith settled. Lance doesn’t really want to leave. He feels like he needs to _see_ Keith to know he’s all right. 

But Shiro is his brother, so Lance nods.

“I’ll be back in a few vargas,” he tells their leader. 

Shiro, wholly focused on the teen in the bed, barely acknowledges his words. 

Lance closes the door on his way out. 

He’s dazed. 

Everything feels heavier the further he gets from Keith.

He gets to his room on autopilot, and he doesn’t really wake up until he’s under the spray in the shower.

He drops his head into his hands. 

And stands like that until the hot water runs out and turns to ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how was it? Tbh, I started this chapter completely differently... like same day the last chapter ended w/ Keith pissed at Lance AND Shiro. But I kept getting stuck. So I decided to just write and see what happened. And somehow I ended up with Lance and Keith on a purple planet that's toxic to Galra. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith is still sick, and Lance stays with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Shiro sleep 2k18

“Shiro?” Lance knocks. “Can I come in?”

He doesn’t get a verbal response, but the door slides open. 

Lance takes in the room and its current occupants. 

Keith is tangled in his sheets, and Shiro hovers nearby with tired eyes and a concerned wrinkle creasing his brow. 

There’s a water pouch on the nightstand, a book, a tablet, and a thermometer. There’s a bucket on the ground near the head of the bed. 

“How’s he doing?” Lance asks.

Shiro gathers his thoughts, “His fever spiked earlier. 103.2.” He pauses, “Coran says he’ll be okay, though. Apparently this is part of the process, but it’s just... worse than usual.” Shiro clarifies with a sigh, “Probably because of his human biology.” 

Lance nods because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

While he stares and tries to think of something helpful to do or say, Shiro’s eyes close and he lists to the side. 

Now worried about Shiro’s condition as well, Lance bites his lip. 

“I... You... You look exhausted, man,” Lance points out. “How long have you been awake?”

Shiro and the others had been on an overnight mission when they’d intercepted the distress beacon and hurried to recover Lance and Keith. From what Hunk had told him, it had been fairly intense. 

“It’s not important,” Shiro scrubs a hand over his face and adjusts Keith’s blankets. 

Groaning, Lance shoots him a flat look, but Shiro pretends he doesn’t see it.

Sometimes Shiro and Keith are so similar that it’s disconcerting. They’re so different on the surface, and he doubts either of them realize how many traits they actually share between them. They both have stubborn streak a mile wide, and they both fret over one another like fierce, armed mother hens. 

Lance shakes the strange image from his head and refocuses his attention on the task at at hand. 

Since the subtle attempt proved ineffective, Lance decides to go for a more direct angle. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Lance volunteers. 

Shiro looks up. His expression is worn, weary, and protective. His gaze wanders back to his brother.

“You know if he figures out how long you’ve been up, he’ll be difficult,” Lance reminds the older paladin: Keith tends to overreact when Shiro is involved. “And Coran said we have to keep him comfortable and calm... If he gets upset and starts worrying, he could get worse.” 

Pensive, Shiro thinks over Lance’s words before he nods. Shiro stands and stretches, and Lance hears his back pop and winces in sympathy. 

“Take care of him, Lance,” Shiro instructs and then claps him lightly on the shoulder. 

The door shuts when he leaves. 

And then Lance is alone with Keith.

Unsure of what do with himself now that he’s here, he takes Shiro’s vacated chair and drums his fingers on his thighs. Then he fiddles with the tablet and finds some Altean game to keep him occupied, but it’s unnecessarily complicated so he decides to treat it like Pong. 

Right when he starts to really get the swing of it, Keith rolls onto his side and faces Lance. 

His violet eyes blink sluggishly, and he groans. 

“Sh’ro?”

“Uh, no,” Lance clears his throat. “It’s Lance.”

Keith closes his eyes and furrows his brow like he’s thinking.

And then he bolts upright.

Which isn’t a great idea when you’re recovering from being poisoned. 

Keith grimaces in pain. His shoulders hunch over protectively, and he clutches his stomach. 

“Woah, easy,” Lance is on his feet, and he places his palm on Keith’s shoulder to prevent him from jerking around or making himself worse. He can feel the heat of Keith’s skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Keith’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and his face further reddens.

After a short internal debate, Keith finally says, “Why are you here?”

 _Typical, blunt Keith,_ Lance thinks. _Asshole._

“Coran said you shouldn’t be alone. Shiro went to get some rest.” 

In spite of the fact that he’s clearly miserable, doubled over and trembling from exertion, he grumbles, “I don’t need you to babysit me.” 

Lance resists the urge to roll his eyes, _So we’re back to this, huh?_

Instead, he waves around the forgotten tablet, “Don’t flatter yourself, Mullet.” He holds it up for Keith to see. “Pidge gave you her upgraded tablet.”

This information seems to derail Keith’s rage train. His signature confused pout blossoms on his face and his lips purse.

Lance wonders if he even realizes that he does it. 

Lance sighs and explains further, “I _like_ the fancy Pidge tablet. Cause it’s the best. And she never lets me borrow it. This is my chance.” Lance taps the screen to show Keith what he thinks is his score. “You’re messing up my game. See? So relax and be a good invalid, okay? I’m trying to beat Pidge’s record.”

Keith doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he lets Lance gently press him backward until he’s horizontal with his head on the pillow.

Once he’s satisfied that a feverish Keith isn’t going to faint on him, Lance putters around to make the smaller teen more comfortable. He insists Keith take a few sips of the water pouch and eat a few bites of goo, and then he goes to the adjacent bathroom to wet a cool compress for Keith’s forehead.

Keith watches him with a guarded, almost apprehensive expression, but he doesn’t protest. 

Lance brushes Keith’s bangs away from his face and looks thoughtful, “Want me to braid your hair?”

Surprised, Keith blinks, “What?”

“Your hair,” Lance gestures dumbly. “It’s got to be annoying right now, yeah? I used to braid my sister’s all the time. It’ll keep it out of the way.” 

Keith hesitates, but then he nods. 

Lance helps him sit up, and then he moves around so that Keith will still be comfortable while Lance works on his hair. He scoots in behind Keith. 

Lance grabs an elastic ring off the table and runs his fingers through the long, dark strands of Keith’s hair in an attempt to remove any tangles. It’s softer than he anticipated, and he immediately shoves that thought into a dark corner of his mind. 

While Lance fights his uncooperative feelings, his fingernails graze the other boy’s scalp, and Keith slumps a little bonelessly and groans.

Lance stills, “You okay?”

“Fine,” Keith answers. His voice is breathy, and a spike of concern clambers in Lance’s gut. He presses the back of his hand to Keith’s forehead; he’s warm, but that’s expected. 

Keith mutters something impatiently, so Lance returns to his ministrations.

Gradually, Keith melts.

And Lance comes to a very interesting realization. 

The few knots are long gone, but Lance is now basking in the knowledge of _holy crap Keith_ likes _having his hair played with._

He weaves a pretty French plait when he can’t stall any longer. 

He finishes and rests his hands on Keith’s shoulders for a moment. 

“There,” he comments. His voice sounds a little rough to his own ears. “All finished.”

Lance shifts until he’s in front of the other teen. 

Keith is looking anywhere but at Lance, and Lance frowns. 

“Your face is really flushed,” Lance notes. “Are you sure you’re not feeling worse?”

Keith, eyes large and round and indigo, shakes his head, but he still doesn’t look at Lance. 

Choosing to shrug off the odd behavior, Lance helps Keith settle back into the bed and makes quick work of tucking him in. He hums a little to himself throughout the process. 

“What’re you doing?”

“I don’t want you to get cold,” Lance responds without looking up. 

Keith clears his throat, “No, I mean, what are you doing here? Why are you doing... all this?”

Lance finishes up his task, and then he looks at Keith, who stares with wide eyes. “Because we’re friends, Keith, and I care about you,” Lance is soft and sincere for just a moment. Then he smirks, “Besides, I don’t want you to interrupt my game again.”

A small smile tugs up the corners of Keith’s lips, and Lance’s heart thumps loudly in his ears. 

_So pretty,_ Lance thinks, _Keith is so, so pretty._

Though he tried to deny it when he first saw Keith at the Garrison, Lance has long since admitted this fact to himself.

It’s just... not fair that he’s still somehow this pretty when he’s sick. Keith has outright puked on him, and he’s sticky and waxy, but with the delicate braid and his smile, he’s still radiant. 

He shouldn’t still be attracted to him.

But he is. 

 

For the next hour, Keith dozes while Lance’s score climbs. 

Everything is actually fairly peaceful. 

And then Keith vomits.

Like he has a disgusting sixth sense, Lance tosses the tablet onto the bed and grabs the bucket. He thrusts it in front of Keith just in time for him to lose all the contents of his stomach. 

Keith heaves until there’s nothing left but acid and bile, and Lance never stops rubbing slow circles on his back throughout the entire unpleasant process. 

The intense violence of Keith’s sickness causes tears to collect in his lashes, and he pants for breath between episodes of sicking up. 

When the worst of it seems to be over, Lance passes him the water and lets him rinse out his mouth, and then he dumps the mess into the toilet and rinses out the stench of sick before he brings it back to Keith’s bedside.

Weakly, Keith leans with his forehead pressed against the wall as he struggles to stay upright. He shudders and shivers so hard that his teeth click together. 

Lance’s chest clenches up at the sight. 

Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Lance kneads Keith’s shoulder before he says, “Scoot over? I can help you warm up.”

It’s a testimony to how shitty Keith must feel because he instantly complies.

Lance lifts the blankets quickly and slides beside the smaller teen. He tugs Keith away from the wall, and he pulls Keith to his chest and wraps his arms around him. 

Keith relaxes incrementally. 

And Lance can’t help but notice how perfectly they fit together.

Tucking his chin into smaller teen’s shoulder, Lance realizes that he can enfold Keith’s entire body within his own.

They curl together, and Lance can feel the planes of Keith’s back and the knobby bones of his spine. He’s strong, but lithe, and he’s unusually pliant. 

And then Keith shuffles even closer. 

Shocked, Lance feels his mouth fall open in surprise while he wonders, Does Keith like to cuddle?

The red paladin always seems so standoffish, Lance never would’ve guessed he’d been this open to affection. 

It could be the sickness causing this uncharacteristic softness, but Lance is happy to provide while it lasts. 

Lance holds him close until his tremors subside, and the other boy exhales in exhaustion. 

“How...” Keith swallows. “How long does this last?”

Keith shifts, and Lance loosens his grip enough that Keith can turn around to face him. They’re so close that Lance can feel Keith’s breath on the skin of his collar, and he can see Keith’s pulse in his throat. 

Lance feels his ears start to burn.

Apparently, Keith is too ill to care about the intimacy of their position. 

“Lance?”

Right, Keith asked him a question. And he should... answer him. Yeah. Like. Probably now? 

“Uh,” he stutters. “I think Coran sent... something to the tablet? We can look?” 

Keith nods, so Lance sits up and holds it so they can both see it.

Somehow, Keith’s head ends up propped against his abdomen, and Lance unconsciously threads his fingers through his hair. 

“Coran told us a little bit in medical,”Lance rambles as he searches the messages. “But he said he’d send a full report. And... here it is.” 

Lance taps the screen, and he swears it looks like a Wikipedia entry. Nostalgia hits him like a shovel to the face, but he buries the feeling. 

Lance scrolls until he finds a tab about Yxca’s effects on different species, and he clicks on an external link that says Galra. 

Then he cringes.

Because the poison is thorough. 

Left untreated, Keith would’ve died an ugly, painful death: it would eat his skin and organs; it would cause him to go into cardiac arrest; it would make him vomit until he ruptured his esophagus; it would suffocate him. 

Whatever killed him first. 

Unconsciously, he wraps an arm around the red paladin and starts stroking a hand up and down his arm. 

Even though they are nestled together in the blankets and sharing body heat, Lance feels like someone dumped ice water over his head, like needles are jabbing him from every angle.

After everything they’ve all been through, a planet nearly stole Keith’s life. 

Before the feeling threatens to crush him, Lance scrolls to information about the recovery process and peruses the article. 

It’s all very clinical, and Lance thinks it compares to a combination of the Earthen flu and a nasty stomach virus... but worse.

Pain, exhaustion, weakness, and all manner of discomforts were in Keith’s immediate future. Even with the antidote, the effects will last a full movement. 

And he can’t overwork himself or get too stressed. Regardless of the antidote, the first fifty vargas are risky. Coran described his condition as fragile, which Lance didn’t understand and doubted Keith would appreciate.

But now the thought cuts him to the core. 

Keith rests his full weight on Lance when he finishes the article. He rubs his eyes with his fists and punctuates it with a yawn. 

“Tired?”

Keith nods and makes a small noise of agreement in the back of his throat, “Yeah. Don’t know how. All I’ve done is sleep.”

“It’s normal, I think. And you’ve gotta rest to get better.”

Keith nods again. 

Lance debates with himself about whether or not he should get up and let Keith have the bed to himself, and he’s about to offer when he realizes Keith is already asleep. 

When Lance starts to shift, Keith huffs in protest and then rolls until his cheek rests over Lance’s heartbeat. His forearm snakes across Lance’s stomach.

Lance’s hands come up on instinct, but when Keith just makes a sleepy sound, he lowers them until one lands on his back and the other caresses his head. 

And then the smaller teen sighs contentedly. 

Lance’s eyes rival dinner plates. Resolutely, he looks away from the red paladin, and he stares at intensely at the wall, like Hunk wrote an advanced math equation on it that he wants Lance to solve. 

But the warmth and the weight and Keith’s steady breathing tugs at him. His eyelids grow heavy, and it becomes harder to keep them open. 

He fights it, but it’s too much: Soon, he’s out too. 

 

It’s pain and discomfort that wakes him.

And a swift kick to the shin.

Annoyed and confused, Lance grouses in frustration. Everything is muddled, but some part of his brain registers that he’s in bed with Keith, who is sick. 

And then Keith drives his bony knee into Lance’s thigh, and Lance thinks, _What the fuck, man?_

He blinks away the last clinging tendrils of sleep and readies himself to demand to know Keith’s problem when everything clicks into focus. 

Lance shoots up in bed to get a better look at his companion. 

Soaked in sweat and whimpering, Keith’s clearly having another nightmare. His muscles twitch, and he sinks his front teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip.

 _Quiznak,_ Lance thinks. _Another nightmare?_

Lance takes a deep breath and considers how to proceed.

Vaguely, he remembers his sister telling him you shouldn’t wake someone from a nightmare unless they’re going to hurt themselves... and if you do, be gentle.

Singing worked last time, but Keith is making so much noise that Lance would have to be too loud to be soothing just to be heard. 

Tentatively, he reaches out his hand before thinking better of it.

And then the decision is taken from his hands.

Keith jerks violently and uses both hands to shove with all his remaining strength. He cries out in a hoarse voice, “Stop!”

Lance hits the floor with a muffled groan. 

_Okay, seriously, what the fuck?_

When he gets his bearings, he peers up at Keith, who clutches his chest and gasps for breath. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he murmurs, “Stop.” 

Lance didn’t know Keith could sound so small and broken. 

Hesitantly, Lance whispers, “Keith?”

But the other teen startles nonetheless.

In spite of being sick and poisoned, Keith moves like his mattress on fire. 

He grabs his knife in one fluid motion and lands on his feet. He stumbles, but Lance only notices because he’s watching so closely.

Lance lifts his hands to demonstrate that they’re empty, and he hopes he doesn’t come across as a threat. 

Keith’s eyes are far from clear as he squints in Lance’s direction. He holds his weapon between them. The blade shakes in his fist. 

A sinking feeling in his belly tells him that Keith isn’t going to be able to stand on his own for long. 

Lance’s eyes dart to the weapon again, and he’s hit with a vision of Keith impaled on his own knife. 

“Get... away!” Keith hisses weakly. He sucked in a wheezing breath. His head droops, like it’s too heavy, and the loose strands of hair from the plait hide his face as he cries, “Stay away from me!”

Keith’s legs tremble with effort, and he further collapses into himself. 

Lance inches closer and whispers, “Keith, it’s me. It’s Lance. You’re safe. Everything is fine, okay? Can you put the knife down?”

Keith glances at him through his bangs, and Lance isn’t sure if Keith recognizes him or if he’s met the end of his stamina, but he drops the blade.

He crumbles a second later.

Lance surges forward to catch him before he can hit the ground. 

It’s haphazard and messy. 

He gets a hand behind Keith’s head and cradles him to his chest while his own back takes the brunt of the landing. 

Keith doesn’t stir, and Lance’s stomach bottoms out. 

Pressing the back of his hand to the smaller teen’s forehead, Lance winces.

Keith is burning up. 

Grateful for his long limbs, Lance reaches for the tablet and the thermometer while he holds Keith against his chest. 

He pings Coran, and then he uncaps the thermometer and runs it across Keith’s skin. 

It chimes a cheerful 103.2. 

_Fuck._

_Quiznak._

_Fuck._

_Joder._

Casting it aside and gripping the tablet, Lance tires not to freak out while he waits for Coran’s response.

Abruptly, it comes as a knock on the door, and then Coran let’s himself in and takes in the scene.

“He... he just,” Lance starts, swallows, tries again, “He had a nightmare, and he jumped out of bed... and then he fainted.” Lance draws in a shaky breath, “His fever... and he’s... not... responding? What... what do we do?”

Coran assesses Keith’s temperature and hums in thought, “The stress must’ve caused his fever to worsen, and his body was unable to handle the additional strain.” 

This pronouncement doesn’t really make Lance feel better as he stares at Keith’s limp form resting in his embrace.

“Not to worry, Number 3. Number 1 and I feared his temperature may climb again, so I analyzed the compatibility of Altean medicines with Number 4’s unique biology. I was on my way over here with the results when you alerted me.” Coran reaches into his pocket and fishes out two orange pills, “This fever reducer won’t alleviate most of his symptoms, but at the very least it will keep his condition from further deteriorating due to his temperature.” 

When Coran pats his arm and stands, Lance realizes his anxiety must be written all over his face. 

“Do you require assistance?” Coran asks, gesturing between Keith and the bed. 

Lance shakes his head and scoops Keith up, “Nah, I got him.”

Gently, he deposits Keith on the bed. 

Coran nods, places the medicine on the bedside table, and explains that he’ll be back in a few vargas with the next dose. “Do you need anything else? I can sit with him if you need to go.”

“No, I’m... It’s...I’ll stay with him.”

Coran tips his head, “I’ll leave you to it then. Keep your chin up, Number 3. In a movement or so, he’ll be fit enough to slay a rampaging Alkernian chüper.”

Waving, Coran departs. He might not have understood Coran’s words, but he appreciates the effort. 

And then they’re alone again. 

Lance picks up the discarded rag and refreshes it before he returns it to Keith’s forehead. 

The sensation makes Keith’s eyelids flutter, and he makes a small, distressed sound in the back of his throat.

“Keith? Hey, you awake?” Lance settles back onto the bed. He cups the other’s cheek and runs a thumb over the delicate slope of his nose, “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.”

Keith’s eyes crack open to slits, “M’sorry.”

Lance tugs at his ear, convinced he misheard the other boy, “Huh?”

“M’srry,” Keith repeats. “Pl’se.”

 _Confusion,_ Lance realizes, _which uncommon with high fevers._

But very, very painful to witness firsthand. 

“Hey,” Lance breathes. “Hey, shh, you don’t have to be sorry.” 

His face creases in thought, “L’nse?”

The relief Lance feels is heady; he feels drunk on it, “Hey, Mullet.”

“Wha’ppened?” 

“Your fever’s up again,” Lance tucks a straight lock of hair behind Keith’s ear. “But Coran brought you something to make you feel better.” 

He helps Keith sit up, passes the pills into his shaking hand, and then gives him the water pouch to chase it all down. Exhausted, Keith sinks back into the mattress. 

Lance picks up the cloth and dabs it against the heated skin of Keith’s throat and hairline, and Keith sighs his gratitude. 

Quiet and observing, he watches Lance’s soft expression as he runs the fabric over his face, chasing the fire away, and it makes him shiver. 

It’s soothing, and his eyes start to droop against his will.

Lance smoothes a hand through his hair again and moves to stand.

A low sound of protest burns in his throat, and he reaches out to catch Lance’s wrist. 

“Keith? Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” Lance croons. Keith calms when Lance’s weight returns to the bed. “Oh,” Lance feels understanding wash over him. “Want me to stay?”

Keith coughs to clear his throat, “Pl’se?”

And that’s it for Lance.

The door he’d shut and locked and barricaded, the one that was labeled with some combination of the words _Keith_ and _Feelings_ , creaks open as Lance crawls in beside the smaller teen and holds him close until he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I really struggled with this chapter. I've been super busy, and then I had trouble with the content itself. Like, I want to make sure this is natural progression from the fuck off incident to the development of the relationship. Getting poisoned was sort of the catalyst to accelerate it, but I still wanted to make sure it didn't come across as wonky. 
> 
> I hope it was a fun read! I tried pretty hard, but I'm not sure I'm satisfied. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance worries, and Keith isn't okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, anyone have any tips for the chapter text and such? Every time I copy and paste from Google Docs, I end up with no spacing or too much spacing, so then I try HTML... and going back through and remembering what needs coded is obnoxious.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy! Hope you like it :DDDDDD

“Anyone seen Keith?”

Pidge looks up from her tablet and shrugs. Hunk, who is also bent over the screen, answers, “I thought he was with you?”

“No,” Lance shifts his weight from foot to foot, “I can’t find him.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow while she takes in his anxious expression, and then she smirks knowingly. Lance flushes.

When you’re on a ship with all of seven people, it’s not easy to conceal anything.

But it’s not like he has anything to hide!

Yeah, Keith and he spend more time together now.

Again, there are only seven people on the ship, so the company isn’t exactly varied. It was inevitable that they’d get closer.

Unavoidable.

So what’s the big deal?

Besides, they couldn’t be rivals forever; intergalactic space wars take time, and it’s better for everyone if they’re friendly.

Friends.

And friends hang out! And that’s not weird, Pidge!

And maybe he worries about Keith sometimes, but who wouldn’t after everything that happened on Yxca? Keith was so sick, and it took several movements for him to get better.

It was awful. The whole recovery process was long, painful, and exhausting, and Lance knew that better than anyone because he was there for nearly all of it.

Shiro was there a lot, too, and the others all visited with Keith daily to keep him company.

But Lance was the one who slept next to Keith every night.

They didn't plan it or anything. It just sort of kept happening.

And Keith seemed to sleep better when he was there.

And it helped him stay warm.

And it was nice.

Like, really nice.

And they talked and they watched movies, and when Keith was allowed to venture out of his room, Lance went with him. If Keith got dizzy or lightheaded, Lance was there to catch him. If Keith was tired of being cooped up in one place, Lance and he would explore. If Keith got tired and needed to go back and rest, Lance was there to guide him.

After two movements, Coran approved Keith for light exercise, and then gradually he was included in regular training.

Five quintants ago, Coran pronounced him to be fully recovered.

And Lance slept by himself in his own bed for the first time in four movements.

Truthfully, he didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning he rushed over to Keith’s room to drag him to breakfast. Prattling all the while, he tugged him down the hall by the hand, and the contact chased away the miserable night.

_ This is fine,  _ Lance thought. Just because they weren’t sleeping next to each other anymore didn’t mean they were no longer friends. I mean, most friends don’t sleep together every night, do they? And they could still be close. Nothing had to change. And Lance could deal with sleeping alone as long as he got to keep Keith during the day.

 

Pidge clears her throat, and Lance shakes himself free of his thoughts. 

His ears burn, and he crosses his arms. Defensively, Lance adds, “I just thought he looked pale and tired at breakfast.”

A few quintants ago, he looked healthy, but Lance thinks he looks worse every day. Coran said he was fine, but what if Keith human biology is impacting his recovery? What if this is just the eye of the storm?

Pidge’s leer shifts into something more thoughtful, and Hunk stops working to give his full attention to Lance.

“Our training regimen is pretty strenuous,” Pidge considers. “Keith lost a lot of weight while he was sick.”

The concern in Lance’s stomach bubbles in warning. A solitary year in a shack hadn’t been good to him, but he’d started looking better as their time in space progressed.

The poison put him back to square one.

“It’s possible that the deficits of his diet haven’t been fully rectified,” she continues. “But I’m an engineer. Not a nutritionist.”

It makes sense, but Lance isn’t sure that’s the extent of it.

Hunk nods, “Yeah, and then if you factor in how much he trains on his own... I got up to get a snack last night, and he was still going at it.”

Pidge’s eyes dart over to study Hunk, “Last night?”

“Yeah.”

“I saw him in there this morning before breakfast.”

“Dude,” Hunk mutters. “Do you think he trained all night?”

Pidge leans back on the couch and crosses her arms behind her head, “It’s possible.”  

Keith trains a lot, but that’s excessive even for him.

Lance frowns.  
  


At dinner that evening, Lance watches Keith carefully.

There are dark circles under his eyes, which are a stark contrast to his pallid complexion, and his movements are a little stiff and ginger, like he’s sore.

An impressive bruise colors the entirety of his left cheek. Mottled angry red and purple, it spans from eye to ear to jaw. Lance assumes that chewing must hurt like a bitch, and his theory is confirmed when Keith winces after taking a bite of tough fruit. Afterward, the Korean teen makes a point to mash all his food with a fork before eating it.

When Shiro finishes his meal, he turns his attention to Keith and asks, “Did you put any ice on that yet?”

Lance wonders if they were training together.

Keith swallows a mouthful and washes it down with some sort of tolerable Altean juice and answers, “No.”

Chair creaking as it scrapes across the floor, Shiro stands, “I’ll go get a pack.”

“It’s fine,” Keith responds.

Lance, tone incredulous, exclaims, “You look like you caught a baseball with your face.”

Keith pouts, and Shiro explains, “One of the gladiators got him with the butt of its sword.”

“Okay, ouch,” Hunk sympathizes before loading another helping of the alien-equivalent of couscous onto Keith’s plate. When Keith raises an eyebrow, Hunk remarks, “Comfort food?”

“Couscous is comfort food?” Lance wonders.

Hunk defends, “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Pidge sighs, “I miss Skittles. And Laffy Taffy.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Hunks agrees. “I would fight a robeast for my mom’s macaroni and cheese.”

The thread effectively distracts Lance from his worry, and he contributes, “ Buñuelo s at Christmas.”

Without prompting, Shiro and Keith look at each other and simultaneously add, “Spice cake.”

“With coffee,” Shiro continues.

Keith’s expression shifts to amusement for the first time all evening, “Cowboy coffee.”

Shiro shudders theatrically.

The Paladins laugh, but the Alteans appear confused.

“What is a cowboy?” Allura asks Coran, who pictures Kaltenecker fused with Lance. “And Skittles?”

Pidge adjusts her glasses before she explains, “Cowboys are just people who herd and tend to cows. Skittles and macaroni and cheese and the rest is just Earth food.”

“Really good Earth food,” Lance mutters as he pokes at his goo suspiciously.

“Well, except for the cowboy coffee,” Shiro contends. The other Paladins, save for Keith, nod.

Indignant, Keith sputters before he can help himself, but he cringes when it aggravates the bruise.

This is enough to get Shiro back on track, and he disappears into the kitchen.

Keith sulks, which makes Pidge laugh, and the Alteans don’t seem any more clear on the matter, so the gremlin supplies, “Keith drinks sludge.”

“It’s not sludge!”

“Like mud?” Allura tries to be open-minded and regal, but her nose wrinkles in distaste. “Does your species drink mud?”

“Pidge is just teasing,” Hunk placates. “But cowboy coffee is gross.”

"You made cookies out of Scaultrite, and then you tried to eat them!” Keith counters.

“That was one time, and that’s nothing,” Hunk asserts. “Lance ate gum wrappers.”

“The shiny ones?” Pidge jeers.

“I was betrayed!” Lance defends, but Pidge just laughs at the Alteans stare in horror. “Like you’ve never tried something gross, Pidge? You probably mixed Red Bull with 5-Hour Energy Shots and slushies.”

“No,” Pidge hums, “but I did have a gummy-worms-on-pizza phase.” The entire table draws away in disgust, but Pidge just waves them off, “What about you, Keith? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Aside from cowboy coffee,” Hunk coughs.

_ Lizard _ , Keith thinks dryly, but he’s saved from answering when Shiro returns and hands off the ice pack to him.

Food remains the topic of the evening, but as the conversation wears on, Keith’s exhaustion begins to catch up with him. One elbow rests on the table, and he props his head up with the hand on the ice pack. He listens, but he doesn’t contribute.

Coran is giving a detailed description about some Altean delicacy that involves boiling the tongue of a Yor bird, which the Earthlings to determine to be freakishly similar to a pterodactyl, when Keith yawns and nearly slumps out of his chair.

There’s another round of laughter, and then everyone leaves the table. Hunk heads for the kitchen with Coran and Shiro, Allura and Pidge go to the shared living area with the space mice, and Keith and Lance both go toward the bedrooms.

“Tired?” Lance asks when the voices of their teammates fade into the background.

“Hmm?” Keith mumbles before the words click into place, “Oh, yeah. A bit.”

“I’m gonna shower, but you should turn-in,” Lance glances at him with a surreptitious eye. “You look kind of rough, man. You sure you’re okay?” He fights the urge to palm Keith’s forehead and check his temperature.

Lance thinks about his earlier conversation with Pidge and Hunk. As far as they know, Keith’s the only human/Galra hybrid to spend any time on Yxca. Who’s to say how this could affect him?

“Yeah, I’m all right. Just tired.”

Keith brushes off Lance’s concern with a fluttering wave of his hand.

It doesn’t soothe Lance’s worry at all.

 

The bathroom fogs with minty steam as the last of Lance’s fancy shower bomb dissolves in the spray. He turns off the tap, grabs the fluffy towel, and steps out onto the plush rug in front of the mirror.

Usually, the bath products he gets from the Space Mall help take his mind off things, but he’s still thinking about Keith.

Something is wrong.

They’re friends now, and friends help each other.

Resolutely drying his hair and wiping off the residual droplets of water, Lance drops his towel in the basket and pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

As soon as he’s decent, Lance makes the brief trek over to Keith’s room before rapping his knuckles on the door, “Keith? It’s me. Got a minute?”

There’s no answer.

“Keith? You okay?”

Lance taps his foot nervously as an image of an unconscious Keith springs to mind. It’s not hard to picture. The last few movements have certainly given him enough material.

“Keith?”

What if he fainted? What if he clipped his head on the nightstand on the way down? What if he was bleeding out on the floor right now while Lance stood outside his room like an idiot?

Lance fidgets, and he tries to talk himself down.

_ He’s probably asleep. Or showering. Or maybe he went to get a snack. _

Lance exhales.

_ He’s fine. _

But Lance doesn’t feel better. Instead, he announces, “Keith! I’m coming in!”

And then he presses his hand to the sensor and steps into an empty room.

Bemused, Lance huffs when he realizes that this is the second time he’s lost the red paladin  _ today _ .

Lance decides to make a quick walk across the Castle to see if he can find Keith.

If he can’t, he’ll go to bed.

Probably.

The kitchen, dining area, and living room are empty. Red’s the only one in her hangar. The observation deck Keith likes is dark and quiet, and Coran is the only one on the bridge.

Resigned, Lance starts the last leg of his loop, which takes him past the training room.

When he’s close enough, he can hear the sounds of battle through the wall.

_ Please don’t be Keith, _ Lance thinks.

When he enters the gymnasium, he scowls.

_ Of course _ , Lance groans.  _ Stupid asshole. _

Lance is starting to think Keith’s mission in life is to give Lance a heart attack.  

While Lance is fretting over his feelings and Keith and Keith’s health, Keith is  _ training _ .

“End training simulation!” Lance calls, and three gladiators burst into pixels.

Surprised, Keith jerks around to see whose caught him, and he has the decency to look a bit chagrined before he schools his features and grunts, “What?”

Lance counts to ten.

And then he gets a good look at their resident glutton for punishment, and his heart clenches in his chest. He sucks air through his teeth.

“What the fuck? Are you auditioning for the role of  _ punching bag _ ?”

“What?”

“What the fuck happened?” Lance crosses the room in three strides and hisses. “Why the fuck aren’t you wearing your armor?”

Blood drips down the right side of Keith’s face from a shallow cut, and there’s a hole in his t-shirt over another jagged laceration.

Lance drops a hand onto Keith’s shoulder and steers him away from the training deck.

When Keith catches up with what’s going on, he protests, “Hey! I’m not done.”

“Oh, you are definitely done,” Lance insists. “Mierda! Are you fucking crazy or something? What’s wrong with you?”

Keith pulls out of Lance’s grip and snarls, “Why do you care?”

“Because we’re friends!”

“Are we?”

“Yes!”

Keith glares, “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

And he stomps off.

  
Lance can’t make himself go to bed. In spite of the fact that he’s completed his entire nightly routine, no part of him wants to climb under his blankets. He’s got his mask, his headphones, and his moisturizer, and there are even fresh sheets on his bed, but he makes no move to settle in for the night.

He feels like his emotions are still running a little high, like they have been since Yxca. They course in confusing waves, and he knows fear, fear, fear, concern, hope, affection, worry, and something even stronger than affection, which is scary in its own right.

But more than anything else, Lance needs to know that Keith is okay.

Reaching a decision, Lance grabs the first aid kit from his attached bathroom and heads back to Keith’s room for the umpteenth time that day. Grimly, he thinks that he’s taken this same route enough to start wearing holes in the carpeting. 

He taps on the tin lid of the kit as he walks and plans. Keith had some nasty cuts, and Lance doubts he bothered to tend to them before he went to bed.

_ If he went to bed _ , Lance corrects.

He’ll offer to help, and then they can talk.

Begrudgingly, Lance acknowledges that Keith might just tell him to  _ fuck off _ again, but Lance isn’t above threatening to tell Space Dad that Keith is overdoing it.

It’s a low blow, but it’s worth it if it keeps Keith safe.

And what has he got to lose? Keith probably hates him again anyway.

Resolved, Lance lifts his hand to knock, but he pauses when he hears a muffled noise.

He holds his breath to listen. He’s almost convinced that it was his imagination, but then he hears it again.

It’s a cry.

Lance’s heart lurches into his throat and insistently hammers there.

“Keith?” Lance swallows. “Are you okay?”

There’s nothing for a beat, and then there’s a weak, “No.”

“I’m coming in,” Lance warns before he flattens his hand on the sensor.

The lights are off, and Lance squints while his vision adjusts to the blackness.

And then he gets a clear view of the small figure tangled in the bedding.

“Keith?”

Lance edges closer. Keith is sweating, and his face is twisted like he’s in pain. Little distressed noises burble up from inside of him, and they’re interspersed with pleas, the words  _ stop _ and  _ no _ .

_ Keith isn’t awake _ , Lance discovers. And then his brain supplies,  _ Nightmare _ .

Lance knows better than to startle Keith, but he acts without thinking.

He presses his palm against the smaller teen’s chest, “Keith?” 

 

It’s the wrong thing to do.   
  


A scream tears itself loose from Keith’s throat, and he jerks to life like he’s been shocked by a livewire. 

An odd, clumsy grace propels him into motion, and Lance can barely follow his movements.

Within the span of a blink, Keith’s grabs his Luxite blade, tackles Lance to the floor, and presses the tip against the side of Lance’s neck.

There’s not enough force to break the skin, but it’s enough to know the weapon is there.

And Keith’s eyes are  _ haunted _ .

Horror washes over Lance like the stormy tide, and he feels sick with realization.

Keith pants above him, knees pinning Lance’s shoulders to the ground, and the knife wavers in his grip.

_ Fuck _ , Lance swears as everything slots into place.

It’s like deja vu, but it’s real.

_ It’s fight or flight every time. _

When Keith wakes from a nightmare, and he isn’t alone, he’s either defensive or offensive.

Lance recalls the first incident, wherein Keith leapt to his feet, cussed Lance out, and then  _ ran away.  _ He thinks about the time Keith was running a high fever and still moved like it was necessary for his very survival.

More pieces come together to create an ugly puzzle.

Lance suddenly knows why Keith doesn’t join their sleepovers, and why he doesn’t like to sleep around anyone in general.

And he knows what Keith has nightmares about.

Because he knows how these sorts of reflexes are learned.

They all have bad dreams, but Keith  _ came _ to space with his nightmares.

_ And they’re real. _

Lance thinks he might puke, but he doesn’t have time to entertain the thought because Keith’s eyes finally clear and he croaks, “Lance?”

“Uh,” Lance gulps around the lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

The blade drops from Keith’s fist and clatters to the floor, and Keith’s breath hitches on a sob. Lance watches his shoulders shake in the low light of the room.

Lance doesn’t try to move or get up. Unsure of what to do now, he remains still underneath Keith’s trembling form.

And then Keith crumbles in on himself, and his forehead comes to rest on Lance’s collar. Lance can feel the tears dripping onto his neck as Keith gasps and chokes around the force of his crying. His hands tighten in the fabric of Lance’s shirt.

But Lance doesn’t move to touch him. His mind is somehow blank and reeling, but he doesn’t want to startle Keith further. Doesn’t want to offer him this sort of comfort unless it’s what he wants, and it’s not like he can ask him right now.

Lance stares at the ceiling until Keith cries himself out. Even as he quiets, he doesn’t move from his place, curled on Lance’s chest and holding his t-shirt in a vice-like grip.

“Are you okay?”

Keith’s voice is garbled and tacky, and he doesn’t bother to lift his face from Lance’s neck.

Lance clears his throat and answers, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

He feels Keith nod more than he sees it.

“I’m sorry,” Keith’s voice is pitchy. “I could’ve... I could’ve...”

“You didn’t,” Lance assures him. “I’m okay.”

Keith doesn’t respond right away. Lance feels him exhale before he mumbles, “Okay.”

Keith extricates himself from Lance, and he wobbles to his feet and extends a hand to him. Lance takes it and lets Keith pull him up. From this angle, he can see the bags under Keith’s eyes and the shivers that are still wracking his frame. His face is wet, and the cut on his cheek has reopened and bleeds sluggishly.

The silence stretches, so Lance plucks up the discarded first aid kit and leads Keith by the hand to his bed.

They sit across from one another, and Lance pops open the tin and starts rummaging around until he finds the supplies he thinks he’ll need.

He wipes away the blood, dabs the cut with antiseptic, and then uses two butterfly bandages to hold it together.

Something about the patience and gentleness of Lance’s care makes Keith start to sniffle again.

“Anything else?” Lance asks.

Keith hesitates, but he nods again and peels his shirt up to reveal the untended gash in his side. The fabric is soaked and sticky, so Lance gestures for him to remove it all together. He winces in sympathy when he takes in Keith’s battered torso, but then he sets to work cleaning and bandaging. It needs stitches, but Lance thinks this is enough tonight.

Lance retrieves a glass of water from the bathroom and hands Keith two white pills. They’re the Altean equivalent of ibuprofen, and they’ve proven safe for all of them.

“I thought your nightmares were getting better?”

They’d slept together for a phoeb, and while Keith certainly still had them, they hadn’t been this bad since his fever had broken.

Keith shrugs.

“When... How long...?” Lance isn’t sure what he’s even trying to ask.

Keith clears his throat, but his voice is still raspy when he answers, “They... They got worse? When you... left, they got worse. Again.” Keith swallows, “I can’t... sleep. I don’t even want... to sleep.”

“Is that why you’ve been training so much?”

Keith nods, “I just... want to be too tired to dream.”

Lance gathers his thoughts, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Keith shakes his head.

Lance lifts his hand slowly enough for Keith to see it coming, and then he brushes the hair out of the other teen’s face before he cups his cheek. He uses his palm to guide Keith’s eyes to his own.

“That’s fine,” Lance hopes the sincerity is clear in his words. “But I’m here any time if you do, okay?”

Keith sniffs again, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny, but he doesn’t cry. Instead, he repeats, “Why?”

“Because...” Lance is about to remind him that they’re friends, but he stops and corrects himself. “Because I care about you. Because you’re important to me.”

Keith still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but that’s fine. Lance’s tenacity is the stuff of legends, and he will do what it takes to prove to Keith how much he matters to him.

Lance’s muddy, mucky feelings aside, Keith needs to know that he’s not alone.

He needs to know that he doesn’t have to deal with everything by himself.

And that’s what Lance wants Keith to understand more than anything now.

But the Castleship wasn’t built in a day, and he knows it will take time.

Lance leans his back against the wall, and Keith shuffles around until he’s beside of him.

They sit in silence, and the quiet covers them like a warm blanket.

As time passes, Keith begins to slouch against Lance until his head comes to rest on the other teen’s shoulder. Automatically, Lance’s arm wraps around his waist to hold him there. He uses his free arm to toss the bedding over both of them.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and his voice is husky with sleep.

Keith nuzzles further into his side and nods.

Lance feels a sort of ease return to him. Keith is soft and pliant where he dozes against him, and he’s safe now.

When his eyelids get heavy, he holds Keith a little closer and whispers, “I’ll be here, okay?”

And then he presses a kiss to his temple.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dkjfklsdjfklsdjfsdfj what is this chapter? I rewrote this like a dozen times. I hope it doesn't feel like it's all over the place. I hope this story doesn't feel like it's all over the place. I've got a lot of work to do to get better.
> 
> Anyway. I really hope you enjoyed it! We got some progress, I think, cause Lance finally figures out what's going on and Keith sort of breaks down. poor Keith. 
> 
> But hey also forehead kisses! 
> 
> also hey if you follow me on Tumblr? Looooook, the cowboy coffee didn't get cut!! lol. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me really happy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which hide-and-seek takes an odd turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunny vs. The Text Editor
> 
> Please excuse the weird formatting issues. It hates me.

“All right, Keith, olly olly oxen free! You can come out now!”

Lance cups his hands over his mouth as he shouts, and his voice carries down the surrounding corridors.

There’s no response.

Well, Hunk yawns, and Pidge fidgets with her laptop, but it’s otherwise quiet.

Allura shifts her weight into her hip and crosses her arms, “He may be too far away to hear us.”

Hunk nods in agreement, “He is the best hider next to Coran and Allura.”

“True,” Pidge confirms. “I’ll go ahead and patch into the intercom system.” She types a few things into the laptop before she slaps a button, “Varga’s up, Keith! You win and whatever. Hunk’s it next round!”

Lance leans against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets while they wait. In all likelihood, Keith had hidden in the far reaches of the Castleship. The Korean teen had a knack for finding nooks and crannies, and he was very quiet.

He won a lot. Coran and Allura were the only ones who ever beat him, and they had an edge: Allura had lived in the Castle her whole life, and Coran’s grandfather had built it.

Since there were only so many hours in a day that one could train, the paladins had taken to finding new ways to amuse themselves. Capture-the-Flag and Hide-and-Seek were big hits. The Castle’s elaborate architecture made for an excellent playing field.

After a seemingless endless seven varga game of Hide-and-Seek, they’d improved and modified the games over time.

Lance didn’t worry much right away. Pidge showed off the video game she was designing in her free time to blow off steam, and Allura was enamored with it. She kept begging her to include Altean creatures and landscapes, and Pidge tried to create them as fast as Allura could describe them.

This kept them occupied until Lance hunches over Pidge’s shoulder and sees the time. He blinks and rubs his eyes in surprise, “Keith still isn’t back.”

Pidge stops, and everyone turns their attention to Lance. Pidge addresses Allura, “Are there any places in the Castle that the intercoms don’t reach?”

Allura shakes her head.

Lance frowns in concern, “Should we look for him?”

Pidge makes another announcement through the system, and they decide to give him ten more dobashes to turn up.

He doesn’t.

“Keith!” Lance bellows in a fit of pique. “Get your quiznak out here!”

Pidge crosses her arms, “If he didn’t hear the intercom, he didn’t hear you yelling.”

Undaunted, Lance shrugs, “Maybe he’s asleep?”

In response, Pidge jams her finger on the alarm button. Everyone claps their hands over their ears except for the green paladin, who smirks.

When she cuts it off, she grins, “He’s awake.”

Allura looks a bit ruffled and indignant, but Lance thinks she’s just territorial over the system.

They make one more announcement and give Keith five more dobashes.

But he still doesn’t appear.

Lance chews at his lip in concern, and he notices the amusement has melted away from the others expressions.

Pidge runs a digital security sweep and double checks the footage of the entry points.

She leans in closer to the screen and squints as numbers and images flash in rapid succession, “Scans show no intruders. No one has docked or left the Castleship since Coran and Shiro left this morning.”

Allura clasps her hands in front of her and takes charge, “All right. Let’s split up and look for Keith.” She assigns Lance and Hunk different sectors of the Castle. “Pidge, you stay here and monitor the feeds. If anything changes, update us.”

They collect their helmets to communicate and set off in divergent directions.

Worry is Lance’s companion in the halls, and he taps his fingers against his throat in an arrhythmic pattern against his own throat.

Pidge said the Castle didn’t show any signs of tampering or malfunctioning, but Lance gulps when he thinks of the airlock and the training bot that tried to kill Keith.

He shudders.

Lance goes through seven rooms like clockwork. He calls out to Keith, and then sets to work looking behind chairs and loose flooring for the red paladin.

Allura, Pidge, and Hunk check in regularly, but none of them are having any luck either until Pidge blurts, “There!”

“Where?” Hunk’s voice buzzes over the comms.

“There! Keith, _you sneaky little shit!”_ Pidge sounds impressed. “So that’s how he does it.”

“You found him?” Lance can’t keep the hope and relief out of his voice.

“Mmm, no,” Pidge explains, “but I did finally manage to find him on the security tapes. It gives us a lead. Lance, you’re headed in the right direction.”

“Roger,” Lance replies. He tries to keep his tone light, but it sounds strained to his own ears.

“I got a glimpse of him going toward the room at the end of the corridor. He could’ve veered off, but I doubt it. The footage is from about a varga ago, so I would’ve already been looking for you all. He put in some distance, but he couldn’t stay in the open.”

Pidge directs Hunk and Allura to Lance’s location.

Hurrying, Lance rifles through two more rooms in his path before he makes a beeline to the one at the end of the hall with the elaborate designs on the doors.

He pushes the heavy doors open to a spacious chamber. Ornate and lavish, this space was for the use of visiting royalty and diplomats more than 10,000 years ago. Lance doubts he’s been in this room, but he’s been in rooms like it.

Now, however, everything is covered in a thick layer of dust. Lance knows Coran wants to get everything polished and perfect, but the Castle is huge, and the massive space war tends to eat into their time. Clearly, they hadn’t gotten to this roomyet.

“Keith?” Lance calls as he gazes around the empty expanse. There’s no reply. Fastidious, Lance checks under the bed and in the armoire. He even looks in the chest of drawers because their training regimen has proven that Keith is stupid fucking flexible.

When he crouches behind the plush couch, the sound of several dull thuds in quick succession meets his ears.

Bodily shoving the piece of furniture out of the way, he presses an ear to the wall.

“Have you found him yet?” Hunk asks. He and Allura are on the wrong side of the Castle, so it will take sometime before they converge on his location.

“No,” Lance answers, “but I hear something in the wall?”

“The wall?” Hunk questions in dibelief.

“Yeah,” Lance knocks against it, and the noise increases. “Keith?”

“Oh,” Allura exhales as realization dawns on her. “You’re in the one of the wings for visiting peoples, diplomats, and royal families. There are several throughout the Castle so that travelers could stay together.”

“Fancy,” Pidge acknowledges. “And?”

“Lance,” Allura says and then instructs, “All the royal chambers were equipped with hidden safes for valuables. It’s possible that Keith came across one and used it to conceal himself. They shut automatically as a precaution, and they don’t open from the insidd. There should be an imperfection in the moulding in that particular suite. If you touch it, the panel will slide away.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hunk stammers, “There’s air in there, right? Please tell me there’s air.”

“Shit,” Pidge swears.

“Allura?” Lance croaks. If it’s Keith, the noise _has_ to mean he’s alive. Lance doesn’t feel comforted until Allura confirms it.

“Yes, yes, they’re ventilated,” Allura assures them. “It was preferable to catch possible thieves alive.”

Amelioration is a balmy sea, and it carries Lance along like he’s floating a strong tide. He takes a deep breath in through his nose.

Insistent, the banging intensifies.

 _It’s got to be Keith,_ Lance affirms to himself as he skims the moulding with his hands, but he’s still wary. Aliens are weird, but there’s no way that something could’ve been living in a safe for 10,000 years, right?

Lance licks his lips and really hopes it’s not a parting gift from Sendak.

 _Okay, I can do this,_ he steels himself when he finds the small chip in the otherwise flawless expanse of white moulding.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

Lance’s mouth falls slack.

 _Blood_ , he registers dimly. Keith’s hands are bleeding, and what isn’t painted red is bruised.

But even this isn’t what shocks him the most.

Keith’s violet eyes are wide and unblinking.

_Red, glassy, and agonized_

Keith launches himself into Lance’s arms with enough force to knock them both over. Lance clutches him reflexively as they tip to the ground, and Keith holds on tight.

As they topple in a heap lanky limbs, Lance manages a glance at the tiny, dark space over Keith’s shoulder. It couldn’t have been more than two feet wide, high, and deep.

And then it seals shut, and the wall is abruptly seamless again.

Keith latches onto Lance with an unsurpassed ferocity and quivers against his chest.

“Hey,” Lance coaxes, “What’s wrong?”

Keith doesn’t jerk away, so Lance runs a hand over the plane of the smaller teen’s back. In response, Keith buries his head more thoroughly in Lance’s neck.

His slim nose comes to rest against the column of Lance’s throat, and his breath ghosts over the skin there.

But it’s coming a little too fast.

Lance can feel the sweat on Keith’s brow, and his skin is clammy to the touch.

Lance is staggered because this is raw horror.

Previously overwhelmed by the last two dobashes, Lance only then notices that the others’ voices are echoing from the helmet that had been knocked away by the flurry of movement.

Annoyed, Pidge demands, “Lance? Did you find him or not?”

Keeping one arm around Keith, Lance gropes around until his hand lands on his discarded helmet. He drags it over.

“Uh, hey, yeah, I found him.”

“Is he all right?” Allura worries.

“Yeah,” Lance lies. Quickly, he comes up with an excuse to keep the others away, and they buy it. He feels a little bad, but he thinks they would understand. He doesn’t imagine that Keith wants a big audience at the moment.

When he’s finished, Lance shifts around until he can sit up. Pliant and clinging, Keith moves with him without lifting his head.

Keith’s muscles are taut under Lance’s palms, and they periodically twitch. He feels brittle, like autumn leaves that have baked too long in the sun.

Lance combs his fingers through Keith’s dark hair, “Keith, cariño, what’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

Lance feels Keith’s lips brushing against his jaw more than he hears his murmured words. It’s less than a whisper, and it’s muffled by his proximity.  
Lance adjusts his shoulder to maneuver Keith into a better position. Somehow he ends up with Keith sitting sideways in his lap. The smaller teen nestles closer.

Lance presses him, “Can you say that again?”

  
Keith rasps, “I... I didn’t know it would close.”

  
“Oh,” Lance says, “Are you claustrophobic?”

  
Keith shakes his head, “Not... not really? I just... It... wouldn’t open... from the inside.”

Keith shivers in Lance’s grip and sucks in a wheezing breath.

  
And Lance understands that it would be frightening to be locked in a small, dark space with no way out.

  
But this is more. This is rooted in something dark and deep.

Softly and without judgment, Lance asks, “Are you having a panic attack?”

  
Keith hesitates, but then he nods.  
_Okay_ , Lance thinks, _He knows panic attacks._

His brother Marco’s wife, who is the nicest human alive next to Hunk, has panic disorder. She used to talk about it pretty openly, and Marco wanted to make sure they all knew what to do if something happened when he wasn’t nearby.

  
Furthermore, Lance has learned that space wars are great recipes for panic attacks.

  
“I’m right here,” Lance begins to soothe. “You’re safe.” He threads his fingers through the strands of Keith’s and whispers words of reassurance. “This feeling will pass. You’re safe. We’re in the Castle, and you’re sitting with me on the floor of this ridiculous room. I’m here, okay?”

  
Keith doesn’t speak for awhile, so Lance rides out the attack with him in this fashion.

  
Eventually, some of the tension drains from Keith’s shoulders and back, the shaking subsides, and he melts against Lance.

  
“Better?” Lance asks.

  
“Yeah,” Keith’s voice is rough from disuse and upset. He clears his throat. “Thanks.”  
It’s a stark contrast from the fuck off incident from two phoebs ago, and it’s just another indicator of how much their relationship has changed in that span of time.

  
Lance blinks at him and brushes off the gratitude, “You don’t need to thank me.” He smiles gently, “C’mon, you’ve gotta be exhausted and sore. And I’ll clean your hands up.” Lance figures Keith ruined them in an attempt to bash and claw his way out of the space. It makes his heart ache.

  
When Lance gets to his feet, he extends a hand to Keith to help him up. He’s careful of the injured palm. Unsteady, Keith lets Lance pull him upright. He finds his balance, and the two amble back to Lance’s room.  
They keep their hands linked the entire way.  
  
The rest of the quintant was thankfully uneventful, and no one was any the wiser to Keith’s panic attack.

Lance wrapped and disinfected Keith’s hands, and they told everyone he hurt them training. Coran and Shiro returned in time for dinner, and they both appeared to be in good moods. Shiro kept laughing at Coran’s odd jokes even though they didn’t make sense to anyone else. The mission must’ve gone well.

Freshly showered, Lance lets himself into Keith’s room, where the other teen is curled up on the bed with a tablet. Keith’s dark hair is still damp from the shower. Droplets of water collect at the ends, which curl at his shoulders.

Lance snatches a spare towel from the bathroom and drops it on Keith’s head.

“Hey!” Keith sputters, but Lance ignores him in favor of drying his hair. He squeezes the excess water away..

“Your head soaks the pillow,” Lance complains as he  works.

“So?” Keith pouts.

“Heathen,” Lance decides. Keith blindly bats his hands away, vigorously rubs the towel for a tick or two, and then he tosses it at Lance’s face.

Lance’s nose wrinkles, but he drops the towel into the laundry chute before he returns to the bed. Keith puts the tablet on the table and slides over to make room.

Like clockwork, the two get comfortable under the blankets, and they tangle and intertwine.

“Wanna work on the Altean language with Pidge tomorrow?” Lance asks as they snuggle together.

“Sure.”

“Good. I’m gonna school her.”

“Can I fight the Yor bird?”

Lance chuckles and strokes an affectionate hand down Keith’s side, “Of course.”

Pleased with their plans, Keith’s breath evens out, and Lance drifts off listening to the peaceful sound.

But he doesn’t stay asleep long.

 

Keith is a restless sleeper on his best nights, so Lance doesn’t think too much of it when Keith twists around beside of him. His sleep addled brain struggles to place the distressed sounds, but the firm tug of slumber is hard to resist, and his consciousness is reluctant to stir.

He’s almost out again when Keith shoots up in bed with an anguished moan.

Keith’s next inhale catches on a whine. He coughs around it, but he only gets progressively more worked up.

Lance wakes.

Blue eyes crack open, and he works to make his body obey his commands. He feels sluggish, but he gets upright. His voice is thick as he asks, “Hey. You all right?”

Keith has the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. He doesn’t answer aloud, but he nods.

Lance pulls the smaller teen to his chest and traces circles on his back, but after ten dobashes he’s barely relaxed at all. Usually this is enough to calm Keith, but it isn’t working.

Finally alert, Lance breathes, “Hey, what’s wrong? What do you need?”

“M’okay.”

Lance is far from convinced, “How about a drink of water?”

“No, I...” Keith starts, but he corrects himself, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

When Lance pushes the blankets off to rise, Keith makes a confused sound.

“What?” Lance asks.

“I was going... I can...”

“Huh?”

“Can I come too?”

Lance is taken aback, but he smiles, “Of course.”

They walk to the kitchen area in silence, and Lance watches Keith’s rigid frame loosen. His breath slows, and he doesn’t look quite so distraught.

They both grab a water pouch, but Keith doesn’t head back to his room. Instead, he murmurs, “Can we keep walking for awhile?”

“Sure,” Lance agrees. They wander the Castle in relative darkness, but Keith is sure-footed like he’s done this many a night.

After half a varga passes, Keith looks a lot better. They come to one of the common areas, and Keith saunters over to the couch. Lance joins him.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Keith replies, and Lance believes him this time.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I... No, I...” Keith hesitates. “I don’t like feeling trapped.”

Lance listens, but he doesn’t press. He waits for Keith to continue at his own pace, and his patience is rewarded.

“Sometimes when I wake up in that room... and it’s dark and small? I feel like... It’s like I don’t know where I am. Like I’m not sure.” He pauses to think and admits, “Walking helps?”

Lance nudges his shoulder, “No wonder you beat us all when we play hide-and-seek. You’ve been scoping out the best spots all night.” It eases the atmosphere of the room, and Keith’s lips quirk up for a tick. Keith slumps more comfortably on the couch, and Lance slides closer until Keith drops his head on his shoulder. Lance reaches out for his hand, and Keith takes it.

Keith steadies himself before he divulges, “I had... There was this foster family. When I was, like, seven... And when I was bad, they’d lock me in the closet. They wouldn’t let me out for hours.” Keith shudders and whispers, “I think sometimes they forgot about me?”

Lance, who had been soothing his thumb over Keith’s knuckles, stills. He knows there is more to this story. He knows hurt is just one horror of many, but it makes him ache nonetheless.

And Keith trusts him with this information.

It’s almost terrifying. Keith tends to keep everyone at an arm’s length, and Lance can understand why. How hard would it be to expect anything from anyone when you’d been locked up as a child? When there was no one looking out for you? When the people who were supposed to take care of you hurt you? When no one came to save you?

Lance knows that Keith found family in Shiro, but he’s also under the impression that it took a long time for the teen to come around to him.

And now he’s here with Keith, and Keith is opening up to him without real prompting. He’s giving Lance a piece of the ugly parts of his story, and he’s trusting Lance not to hurt him with those jagged edges.

The weight of it is immeasurable.

Lance resumes stroking Keith’s skin, “I’m sorry.”

Keith turns his violet gaze on Lance, “Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Lance concurrs, “but I’m just... I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserved better.” He locks eyes with the smaller teen and swallows, “You... you deserved so much better, Keith.”

Keith stares. He doesn’t even blink. He just studies the Cuban teen in silence while the words sink in.

Unnerved by the reaction, Lance starts to babble, “I. Yeah. Um. You know that though.” He scratches his neck and leans back, “Um, did you want to stay here for a bit? I’ll stay with you?”

 “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Lance admits. “I mean, if it’s okay with you?”

“Why?”

“I get that people need to be alone sometimes,” Lance elaborates, but then he realizes that wasn’t Keith’s question. “Oh,” he laughs at himself, but his face heats up a little when he says, “Because I... Um, I....”

He’s sure his coloring rivals a tomato, but he lifts his head to look at Keith, who bites his lip as his own face pinks up.

And then Keith glances at Lance’s lips, “You?”

“I think... I think you’re great, Keith. I like spending time with you and talking or watching movies. I like sleeping next to you,” Lance trails off. “I mean, you’re crabby and crazy, but I like that too. Because that’s part of what makes you _you_.” Lance hesitates. He doesn’t want to force his feelings on Keith, but Keith keeps asking him for an explanation.

And he owes Keith his honesty, so Lance whispers, “And I like _you_ , Keith.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Lance confirms. “But I don’t expect anything, okay? I just... like being with you, and I just hope we can still be friends.”

At some point, Lance had stopped looking at Keith in favor of examine a loose thread on his pajama pants. He didn’t notice until Keith said his name. He lifts his head.

And then they’re kissing.

Lance doesn’t know who moved first, but he doesn’t _think_ it was him. He doesn’t waste too much effort on trying to figure it out though.

Keith’s lips are soft and insistent against Lance’s own, and he meets him with the same warmth. It’s gentle and slow, but it’s perfect. Keith grabs fistfuls of Lance’s shirt to keep him close, and Lance cups Keith’s cheek with his palm.

Lance changes the pace of their lingering kiss by pressing a few light kisses to Keith’s mouth before he feathers his lips over Keith’s cheek, nose, and temple in adoration.

When it ends, they sit with their foreheads pressed together. Keith doesn’t let go of his hold on Lance, and Lance has no intention of getting loose anyway.

And then they kiss again.

And again.

And again.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I’m so sorry I haven’t responded to all the comments yet. I haven’t been home in weeks, and I’m currently stuck with my phone and melting in the sun. 
> 
> They mean so so so so so much to me, so I can will reply as soon as I get a minute.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I revised it like four thousand times.
> 
> Kudos and comments are so appreciated. They make the author very happy. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblrrrrr](http://www.sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a feeling gets a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, the text editor and I hate one another.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“ _Stay with me_ ,” Keith begs. “ _Please.”_

His left shoulder is pinned to the ground by an unseen weight, and he refuses to think about why he can’t feel it anymore. He reaches out with his right arm. It makes fire shoot up the length of his back, but he doesn’t stop straining to reach the unmoving hand just beyond his grasp.

Keith chokes on an agonized gasp when the pain somehow intensifies, and the noise resolves in a gurgle.

 _There’s fluid in my lungs_ , his brain supplies. _Fuck._

 _“_ Lance!” he calls when he can breathe again. His fingers scrabble for purchase, but he only manages to dislodge a few small stones. _He’s so close. “_ Please. You have to... have to stay awake!”

Keith gasps. He’s pretty sure he’s been run through with something, and he knows there’s some kind of internal bleeding.

The bridge collapse was so sudden that neither of them had time to react. They were crossing at leisure and joking about something or another with their linked hands swinging between them.

And then the world _cracked_ into fragmented disarray.

Lance groans.

“C’mon,” Keith pants. “Say something. Please.”

When Keith woke up, he was buried in rubble, and everything was dark. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, and a few pockets of light managed to weakly illuminate the space in front of him.

It revealed a bloodied palm.

“Lance!” Keith cried. Anguish and desperation made his voice break. There was no response, and Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest. Fear coursed through him with stunning intensity. “No,” Keith whispered. “Lance! Please!”

Unfathomable, bleak, empty, Keith didn’t even realize that a sob was working its way out of him. He shuddered at the force, and it made every part of him throb. Biting his lip in response to the pain, Keith stretched in an effort to get to Lance.

But he was stuck.

And stuck they remained.

Dust and grime float around him, and he coughs wetly. A smatter of crimson coats the ground before him. Black spots cloud his vision, and the tug of unconsciousness is hard to ignore.

He can’t pass out though.

Stubbornly, Keith presses himself to stay alert. If Lance is out of commission, Keith is their only hope for survival.

He has to make sure Lance gets out alive.

Images from the last few phoebs flash through his mind.

And everything is out of focus and blurry save for grinning blue eyes.

 

For most of his life, Keith had been better off alone.

After his father passed away, Keith had been shuffled in and out of group homes and foster care. It hadn’t been a great experience. Keith had the scars to prove it. There were nice families, too, but somehow they left him feeling even more bitter than the ones who had slapped him around. In tandem, it drove home the message that some of the shittier places tried to instill in him.

_No one wants you._

Which really meant no one loves you.

When he was in elementary school, he was hopeful. He’d be adopted and find his forever home. His second placement was with the Williams family, and he’d liked it there. They were nice, and there was always plenty to eat. Moreover, they had a dog named Kiki that Keith played with for hours on end.

When his social worker showed up on the doorstep one day and told him to pack his bag, he cried the whole way back to the group home. For weeks he believed that it was some kind of mistake, and they would come back for him. When one of the middle schoolers figured out what Keith was thinking, he laughed and shoved him down the stairs.

“No one’s coming for you,” the boy sneered, “Get it through your thick head.”

Keith had to spend two months with his arm in a cast.

He was hesitant with his next family. They were okay, but he was afraid to get too close. A part of him still felt like it had splintered when he imagined Mrs. William’s warm smile and Kiki’s cheerful bark. It hurt.

They didn’t want him.

Why didn’t they want him?

He was with the second family for a month when he overheard them telling his case worker that he was too closed off. She showed up two days later to take him to his next house.

The house looked all right, but Keith was more wary than ever.

Within a few hours of Ms. Kathy waving as she drove away, Keith learned that he was right to be concerned.

Keith had wondered if something was wrong with him, and the Donaldsons were more than happy to confirm this fear.

He dropped a glass his first night there. It shattered on impact, and all hell broke loose. With a smack to the face and words like _burden_ and _trouble_ , Keith was sent to bed without dinner. It was only the beginning of an unpleasant chain of events.

Years passed in this fashion.

He didn’t have a lot of possessions, but he left each home with souvenirs.

Some of them were visible. A lot of them weren’t.

Nightmares, a sense of otherness, a general mistrust of others, and aggression colored his days and nights. He wore lessons like _leave before you are left_ and _hurt before you are hurt_ like they were kevlar.

Everything was lonely and dark.

And then things changed when he turned twelve.

Shiro lit up the night sky like a comet, and Keith started to see more for himself.

A representative from the Garrison, Shiro brought the students in his class to practice the flight simulator, where he saw something in Keith.

Keith knew better though.

Resistant and unwilling, Keith met most of Shiro’s attempts to bridge the gap with contempt.

But Shiro kept coming back.

He was tenacious and persistent and he was always kind.

Shriro managed to convince him to join the Galaxy Garrison, where he could stay in his own dorm and really learn to fly.

Keith figured Shiro would move on from him when he’d succeeded in getting Keith to enroll. Some other future recruit would be the focus of his time.

Keith was wrong.

Shiro talked to him, checked on him, and ate lunch with him in the mess hall.

When Iverson was ready to throw him out on his ass, Shiro vouched for him.

Keith expected to be stuck in the barracks any time there was leave, but Shiro had other plans. Keith found himself sandwiched into a row of seats on an airplane next to Shiro and Adam. They spent the week with Shiro’s mother. It was the first house he’d been to in years that actually felt like a home.

Things looked good for awhile.

And then there was Kerberos and _pilot error_ and Keith’s heart fractured into tiny slivers.

He lashed out with his mouth and his fists.

When he reached his final straw, Iverson reminded him that he was a ward of the state.

Keith bolted before the social worker could show up to take him away.

The desert was merciless, but Keith trekked through the sand with determination. He would find the shack from his youth, and he would survive on his own.

This time everything was on his terms.

It was a solitary year, but it was his choice.

It was better this way.

And then Shiro dropped back into his life with enough force to create a crater, and everything was upended.

He was glad Shiro was alive, but it was hard to reconcile at times.

Shiro, warm, breathing, here, stood before him, but Keith had stood beside Adam at Shiro’s funeral.

There wasn’t really time to process any of it during a space war.

They were all thrown together and expected to bond and protect the universe.

It wasn’t going to be a smooth transition, and Keith felt particularly like a round peg in a square hole. Allura urged them to be open and honest. She didn’t understand that Keith couldn’t and shouldn’t be those things. It wasn’t her fault. It was him.

Keith worked to keep everyone at arm’s length. A longstanding sense of preservation made it natural to hide his vulnerabilities. When asked to share, he revealed as little as possible. It was fine.

And then he’d fucked it all up.

One tough mission and a comfortable couch cracked his carefully crafted facade, and Lance was there to see it all. Their relationship started to shift. The rest of his walls crumbled a few weeks later when he crashed on Yxca. The dynamic transformed and started to unfold into something that Keith tried not to think on too much.

It proved impossible to ignore.

Lance chipped away at the ugliest parts of him with an unprecedented gentleness. He patched up rough places with care. He didn’t run when Keith rumbled like a threatening volcano. He stayed. Everyday Lance was there with a smile just for him.

It’s hard to believe they’d been kissing hours ago.

Lance kissed him like he was delicate, like he was something to be protected and treasured. When Keith relaxed into his arms, Lance deepened the kiss into something warm and firm that made heat pool in Keith’s stomach. Their mouths were hungry and insistent, but it was never rough.

It was perfect.

They’d kissed and whispered until they dropped off to sleep.

The alarm woke them a few hours later.

 

Now Keith felt cold.

What if he never got to hear Lance’s laugh again? What if he never got see his blue eyes light up with joy? What if he never got to feel the heat of his skin pressed against his own?

They never even got to talk about the previous evening.

Sure, they’d wandered off together after the debriefing, and Lance caught Keith’s hand in his own. But Keith wanted more. He wanted to nurture the hope that was blooming in his chest that he thought had withered away a long time ago.

“You’re going to get out of here,” Keith promises in a rough voice. Lance had given Keith so much; he had to survive. To punctuate his statement, Keith reaches out once more against his better judgment. It’s torture, but it’s worth it: He finally manages to brush their fingers together. Lance’s twitch in response. Keith exhales in shaky relief and smoothes the pad of his calloused thumb over Lance’s skin. He feels muscles twitch to life and fine bones flex.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey.”

Finally, Lance answers, “K’th?”

“Hey,” Keith repeats. His eyes water and sting. Lance sounds dazed, but he’s _alive_.

“Wh’t h’p’n’d?” Lance slurs.

“The bridge collapsed,” Keith replies. The three words somehow wind him. “How... How bad are you hurt?” Lance doesn’t say anything. “Lance? Stay awake. Are you... hurt?”

“Hmm?” Lance mumbles. “Yeah. Head.”

Keith figures Lance was unconscious for around two minutes, which isn’t good. A nasty concussion could be a big problem. He hopes the others come for them soon.

Keith coaxes Lance’s into talking by asking for more stories about his family. Brokenly, Lance strings one together about his twin sister Rachel. When they were younger, Lance explains, he and Rachel were essentially identical. They had the same haircut, and they would trade clothes or dress in similar clothing to confuse people for their own amusement.

Lance pauses frequently and trails off three times, but Keith prompts him when he’s silent too long.

It works for awhile.

And then it doesn’t.

When Lance won’t answer even with Keith screaming himself hoarse, Keith panics.

He fights and claws at the space in front of him with single-minded focus.

_Save Lance._

The pain of his injuries fades away in his fear and determination. He digs his nails into the grime and pulls while calling Lance’s name with increased urgency.

With an impressive roar, Keith gets his hand close enough to Lance’s to really brush their fingertips together. The difference in temperature is alarming. He threads them and rubs at the skin to warm it.

Everything centers on this touch.

Keith’s vision tunnels and his mind quiets.

Everything that matters in the universe comes to this one feeling.

And something inside of Keith breathes.

Everything is bright.

And then the world fades to black.

 

Lance stumbles directly from the cryopod into Hunk’s firm embrace. He makes a confused sound, and Hunk squeezes him more tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Quiznak. Please don’t ever do that again,” he implores.

Lance struggles to catch up to the moment. The chilly haze of the cryopod makes it difficult to think. He sorts through disjointed bits and pieces, but he can’t really place them. He remembers getting up with Keith in the middle of the night, and he remembers kissing and and kissing and kissing.

And then things get weird and fuzzy.

Lance swallows to clear his throat and asks, “What happened?”

Hunk puts his hands on Lance’s shoulders and pushes him away to study him, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lance hums in thought, “Negotiations with... the Tibbles?”

Hunk nods, “You had a pretty nasty concussion. I’m not surprised you lost a few things.”

“Concussion?”

“A bridge collapsed,” Hunk explains. “The rival clan on Bïtt rigged an explosive and used it as a diversion for an ambush.”

“ _Mierda_ ,” Lance swore. “Is everyone okay? Did you take them out?”

Hunk looks away before he answers, which makes Lance’s stomach drop. “We managed. The Tibbles are safe... but Keith...”

“Keith? What happened to Keith? Was he attacked? Is he hurt?”

Hunk bites his bottom lip and takes a steadying breath, “Lance, Keith was with you when the bridge collapsed. He was trapped too.” Lance’s gut does something unpleasant. Hunk hurriedly continues, “He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Stepping out of Lance’s line of vision, Hunk gestures to an occupied healing pod. Lance’s eyes land on Shiro’s hunkered form. It looks like he’s taken up residence in the infirmary.

And then he sees Keith.

The soft green light washes out Keith’s already pale complexion, and Lance can tell that something isn’t right. His feet move without his conscious input. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of Keith’s suspended figure.

“Keith?” he whispers in disbelief. He turns back to Hunk and tries not to disturb Shiro, who’s fallen asleep at Keith’s side. “What’s wrong?”

Hunk sighs, but Coran steps into the room before he can answer. He claps Lance on the shoulder and tells him he’s glad he’s all right before he checks out the scanner. Coran picks up the thread of the conversation, “His injuries were serious. Internal bleeding, contusions, lacerations, broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a rod speared him through.”

Hunk clears his throat, and his eyes are misty as he recalls the instance they finally got to Keith and Lance.

“But...” Lance hedges, “The pod’s can fix all of that, right?”

“His vitals are atypical,” Coran says solemnly. “He’s healing, but it’s happening too slowly. We have a number of theories. The Princess is trying to find something in the database to back them up.”

Hunk can tell Lance is about to ask for more information, so he heads him off with his own account. Hunk explains that they got to them as fast as they were able, and Pidge scanned the debris to determine how to safely excavate them, but she got a lot of weird readings. They only discovered the source when they got closer.

“Keith was, like, glowing,” Hunk admits. “And you were too. When we moved you, it stopped.”

Lance blinks, “What? I don’t... Why would we be _glowing_?”

Hunk shrugs and continues. Lance’s injuries _were_ life threatening, but they were mending. Broken bones were healing at an accelerated rate and organs were knitting themselves back together.

Lance was in stable condition.

But Keith wasn’t.

They rushed them back to the Castle, and it wasn’t until they were safely ensconced in the pods that they addressed the elephant in the room.

“Allura thinks Keith was healing you,” Hunk finishes.

Lance blinks, “What? Is that even possible?”

Coran responds to his question, “It’s extremely uncommon, but it’s possible. Princess Allura thinks Keith manipulated his own quintessence to your benefit.”

Lance doesn’t know what to make of this answer. It’s probably important, but he’s more worried about the teen floating in stasis. Lance exhales, “Okay. But what’s wrong with him now?”

“Keith’s own quintessence is severely depleted. It appears to be regenerating, but it’s an arduous process. Between his physical injuries and the fact that he essentially gave you his quintessence, his body is having difficulties repairing itself.”

Lance flattens his hand against the glass, “He’ll be okay, though, right?” His stomach turns to lead as the silence stretches out to encompass the entire room. “Hunk? Coran? He’ll be okay, right?”

“Lance, I’m afraid there have only been a handful of similar documented cases in the last aeon,” Coran admits. “The Princess is reading through different accounts as we speak.” Lance deflates and sags where he stands. Everything is heavy. Coran gives him a sympathetic look, “Don’t give up, my boy. Number 4 is a fighter.”

He’s right, Lance knows. From what Lance has learned in the last however many movements, most of Keith’s life has been one battle or obstacle or hardship or fight after another. And he’s come through.

But Lance wants him to know that he doesn’t have to fight alone anymore.

And he really, really wants to show him that there’s more to life than fighting.

 

The sound of his own name rouses him. Lance registers the warm hand cupped around his shoulder, and then someone shakes him gently and repeats, “Lance.”

Warm skin presses against the length of his body, and Lance’s fingers curl over a bony hip in a show of sleepy possessiveness. Lance drags the other figure closer and lets his thumb trace along the hollow dip, and he murmurs, “Hmm?”

A featherlight sigh ghosts over his collar, and Lance drifts in the embrace of the in-between. He’s not awake, but he isn’t asleep. A familiar scent envelopes him, and it smells like safety and home. The person in his arms is precious. _Love_ , his consciousness says, and Lance concedes. This is the feeling that he didn’t want to look at too closely, and the one he didn’t want to sort out. It’s the one that’s been stirring and growing and flowering within him.

It’s love.

Lance buries his nose in a mop of dark hair and inhales deeply. Everything is muted and soft and peaceful, and Lance has nearly drifted off again when Keith whispers, “Lance? Are... Are you awake?”

Lance can hear the tremor in his voice, and it tugs at something within him. Shifting his arms to cradle him as he turns, Lance rolls onto side to face Keith. He brushes a lock of hair behind his year and murmurs, “Yeah, hey, you okay?” Keith shrugs and won’t meet his gaze, but Lance can feel the way he shakes in his grip. “Nightmare?”

Keith ducks his head and nods.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lance kneads Keith’s shoulders. He works his way down the plane of his back, where he can feel the uneven skin and puckered scars. Keith’s been out of the healing pod for a movement, but he’d been in there for nearly a phoeb. His injuries finally healed about halfway through the period, but Coran warned them it was inadvisable to take him out before his quintessence levels had returned to a safe, self-sustainable range.

Keith was given a few quintants to rest and recuperate outside of suspension before they questioned him about the chain of events that led up to their rescue, which they’d all decided to address that morning.

But Keith had little to offer. No, he didn’t know he could do it. No, he didn’t know how he did it. No, he didn’t consciously do it. Keith just wanted to save Lance, and he was prepared to die trying.

When he heard those words, Lance had found Keith’s hand under the table.

Clearly, the whole discussion brought up some unpleasant memories. To be fair, Lance expected as much.

“We were on Bïtt, and we... we were trapped, but nobody ever... came,” Keith admits in a barely audible voice. “And...and I knew, somehow, I knew that no one was going to come.” Keith shudders, “It was so dark.”

Lance understands. He has nightmares about it too. Sometimes he dreams that Keith is still in the pod, and the only thing that can calm him is Keith’s presence in their bed. After those sorts of dreams, Lance lays awake and watches Keith sleep. He studies the rise and fall of his chest, the way he draws his knees toward his ribs and curls over them, and the way he steals the blankets in small increments throughout the night.

It helps.

“I’m sorry,” Keith abruptly whispers.

“What? Why?”

“I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Lance feels so many things so suddenly it’s hard to sort any of them out. Belatedly, he realizes that this is the first time Keith’s ever chosen to wake him after a nightmare. Lance thinks about the Keith who hid from them so no one would know about his nightmares. He remembers the Keith that ran from him after Lance had woken him on the couch, and the Keith who fought the rest he so clearly needed on Yxca. He pictures the Keith who tried to exhaust his nightmares into submission, and the Keith who wouldn’t talk about it, or tried to deal with everything by himself.

It’s a metamorphosis.

It’s incredible.  

And its significance isn’t lost on him.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, he peppers Keith’s face with kisses and pronounces, “You’re ridiculous.”

This isn’t what Keith expected, and his brow furrows in confusion, “What?”

Lance softens and intertwines their fingers, “You never need to apologize for waking me up.” He leans forward until his forehead comes to rest against Keith’s.

“I...Why?” Keith asks.

“Because I love you,” Lance confesses. Keith’s cheeks pink and his mouth rounds in surprise.  A beatific smile tugs at Lance’s lips. “And as long as you want me, I want to be _right here next to you_.”   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Woah. Oh my goodness. It's done! My first multi-chapter story in over a decade. I was so nervous about finishing this because I feel like so many people were so supportive and I just didn't want to disappoint anyone.
> 
> I hope the last bit doesn't feel too abrupt. It was longer, but I ended up revising and cutting out a lot of it because it just didn't feel right. 
> 
> Anyway, Keith saved Lance's life with the power of LOVE, and Lance lovesssss Keith. 
> 
> In hindsight, I worry this story is super disjointed and all over the place, but it's part of my journey to being a better writer ---- and as long as some people got some enjoyment out of it, I'm happy.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. Comments and critique are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> so... i do not like the title AT ALL. but I needed a title to post... so... Anyway. 
> 
> I feel like I always pick on Keith? I keep meaning to pick on Lance... I'll get there. It'll happen. 
> 
> Shiro and the others will feature more prominently in later chapters.  
> I hope you enjoyed it! I really appreciate any kind of feedback. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :D :D :D :D :D
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr - let's be friends :) ](http://sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> i post lots of klance and vld as well as other various fandom stuff. and i'm also going to start posting fic previews and such, i think.


End file.
